The Coming Storm: The Rise of the Champion
by dominicgrim
Summary: Moira Hawke, mage, and the Champion of Kirkwall of the Stormbreaker universe, how she rose and shook the world. A world made by the actions of Stormbreaker Alim Surana. Not sure of the romantic pairing yet. Language, violence, adult themes later. rated teen for now, may go up later. I don't own dragon age, sadly.
1. The Storyteller

**A/N: This is the tale of the Champion of Kirkwall from the Stormbreaker Universe, no spoilers for the end of Stormbreaker, I promise, but I figured I might as well get this ball rolling. Look for some changes as we go along, because after all, if I didn't, things might get boring. Enjoy!**

 **DG**

 **The Coming Storm: Rise of the Champion**

 **Chapter 1: The Storyteller**

 _Kirkwall._

 _It was a place also known as the city of chains. Most people assumed that referred to the fact that its black cliffs had once been the center of the Tevinter slave trade, but that was not it at all._

 _Ask anyone who had spent any time there, and they would tell you about the chains of Kirkwall._

 _Those chains might be intangible, but that did not mean that they could not seize a person. That they could not pull a person's soul towards the darkness, that they could not break the best of people and leave them asking why them?_

 _Why had this happened?_

 _It was to this place that Divine Justinia V agents had come, they descended on the area known as Lowtown and dragged one of its most well-known…'citizens' out into the dark night._

 _The dwarf had not struggled much, he was too smart for that. Had these people wanted him dead they would not have been as…gentle as they were. Make not mistake, the grip they held him in still hurt like a bitch, but at least they did not seem interested in brutalizing him…yet._

 _They threw a bag over his head, and marched him up the steps to Hightown. He almost tripped twice, but that did not stop his captors in the least. They would just curse his clumsiness and keep on moving._

 _He did not even bother trying to call out for help, given the chaos of late, it was unlikely that anyone would respond, not to help anyway._

 _They dragged him over the cobblestones, he could smell the distant scent of the Viscount's garden, even through the heavy bag. He heard the sound of a door opening and was almost shoved inside._

 _Familiar smells greeted him, he now knew where it was they had brought him, even though it made little sense._

 _The people that lived here were long gone. The fact they had brought him here…?_

 _Despite the situation, despite the pain in his arms, the dwarf smiled._

 _They_ _ **wanted**_ _something of him, he should have_ _ **known**_ _!_

 _Suddenly, what had started as a kidnapping, had become a business transaction, and if there was one thing the dwarf was good at, it was recognizing what people wanted in a business transaction._

 _He resisted the urge to chuckle._

 _Now all that was needed was for them to introduce him to their boss, and…_

 _His captors practically threw him into a large wooden arm chair, the force of it momentarily took his breath away. Before he could recover the hood was ripped from his head. He was sitting in a darkened room, only a single shaft of light burning above him._

 _To his left, almost out of view stood a figure in black armor, the curves suggested either a youth or a woman. The dwarf found himself hoping it was the latter._

 _He could be quite charming when he wanted to be,especially when it came to a member of the opposite sex, or so he had been told._

 _He looked down at his clothes and duster coat, he was little worse for wear, but what could someone expect when they had been kidnapped in the middle of the night._

 _He coughed and chuckled to himself._

" _I," he said gruffly, "I've had…_ _ **gentler**_ _invitations."_

 _The woman, and yes, now he was sure it was a woman sighed, and closed a large book she had been leafing through. She stepped out of the shadows revealing an intense, yet exotic face. She might have been considered quite beautiful, if not for the scars on her chin and cheeks, and the cool intensity of her dark eyes._

 _She frowned at the dwarf, clearly not interested in exchanging pleasantries._

" _You are Varric Tethras, yes?" she asked in a clipped accent, norther Orlesian perhaps, or maybe…Nevarran._

 _He nodded, still not sure how best to respond._

 _She pinned him with those cool dark eyes of hers._

" _I am Cassandra Pentaghast," she said, "Seeker of the Chantry."_

 _The dwarf, Varric Tethras arched an eyebrow._

 _Well, well, he thought, the Hero of Orlais herself…how interesting._

 _He had heard the story of course, who hadn't the girl who had brought down a dragon flight almost single handed about twenty years ago. She had barely been a woman then, maybe fifteen or sixteen._

 _The years had hardened her beauty, he thought, there was nothing soft about this woman, not anymore, too many years of doing the chantry's dirty work._

 _Still, he thought, no harm in playing the cards he had been dealt._

 _It was in his best interest to play along, after all._

 _He leaned back in his chair, and gave her a sly smile._

" _And," he began, "just what is it that you are seeking…Seeker?"_

 _She gave him a cold look. At first he thought she wasn't going to respond, but then…_

" _The champion," she said, "where is she?"_

 _Varric did his best to hide his disgust._

 _I should have known, he thought._

 _It had always been only a matter of time._

 _Still he did not let his disdain shown, he maintained the bland poker face that had served him well at so many merchant's guild meetings._

 _He looked down at his fingers, inspecting them for dirt._

" _Which one," he said blandly._

 _Seeker Pentaghast apparently did not like that. She sprang at him like a lioness. Before he could even blink her book was in his lap, her dagger at his throat._

 _Varric tried to lean back into the chair, but there was nowhere to go_

 _He swallowed nervously._

 _The Seeker glared down at him._

" _You know exactly why you are here," she snarled._

 _She paused for a moment, then sank the blade into the book. Varric fought the urge to jump, the blade did not pierce the hard cover, praise the Maker, but…_

 _He looked down._

 _If it had, he would likely have lost a few things, things he would definitely have missed._

 _He dared a quick glance at the Seeker. She was still glaring at him._

" _Time to start talking dwarf," she said, "they tell me you are good at that."_

 _She stepped away, letting him get a good hard look at the page she had defiled while attempting to skewer, his genitals._

 _He swallowed hard again._

 _The page had a single picture on it, a family crest. It was a crest that anyone in Kirkwall would have recognized._

 _It was the sigil of House Amell._

 _It was the sigil of the Champion._

 _He shook his head._

 _It was Moira's sigil._

 _He shook his head._

 _Andraste's flaming ass, he thought._

 _Why can't these people just leave the poor girl alone!_

 _Still, he kept his true emotions hidden. He had no desire to let the Seeker know just how much she had rattled him._

 _Moira should have been beyond the woman's reach now,but he dared not take any chances._

 _After everything she had done, for him especially, for what they had shared._

 _He knew he had to do his best to protect her._

 _He took a deep breath and gathered his wits._

 _Time to be the storyteller again, he thought, but that was okay._

 _He was good at that._

 _His fingers lightly brushed Hawke's family sigil._

" _What do you want to know," he asked._

" _Everything," the warrior woman growled…_

" _Start at that beginning."_

 _He took a deep breath._

 _Where else could he begin, he thought._

 _He had to go back to where it all started._

 _Back to Lothering._

 _Back to…the Blight._

 _He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath._

 _He was centering himself, when he opened his eyes again…he was ready._

 _He slowly started speaking, telling the tale he had told before._

 _It was embellished of course, but what could one expect?_

 _No one wanted to hear the truth, they wanted to hear about the legend, they wanted the dream._

 _He would not disappoint her._

 _He told her the tale of Moira Hawke._

 _He told her the tale of the Champion._


	2. The Story

**Chapter 2: The Story**

 _The Blight…had come._

 _For as far as the eye could see there were darkspawn, a great seething horde of monsters with their wicked blades and twisted bodies. The grass beneath their feet died with their passing, leaving only gray and purple sand. Animals fell sick in their wake, either contributing to the garden of bones that the horde left behind or as freakishly twisted monsters, running at the head of the horde. The clouds twisted overhead, as rainbow colored lightning streaked across the sky, it was as if nature itself was sickened by the arrival of the monsters…_

… _Perhaps…it was._

 _Out of the Korcari Wilds they came, an unholy flood that washed over the tiny village of Lothering. The few people that had been too slow to escape shrieked as the monsters fell upon them. Hurlocks threw flaming torches into buildings, setting them alight. The few women who had been left behind were dragged off, screaming for help or begging for mercy…in the deep roads, they would find neither…only…corruption, and change._

 _If one could fly, and could escape the horde's notice, it would look like a massive swarm of insects covering everything in their path. The first wave washed over the doomed village, the horde was moving fast, eager for destruction, savoring the kill. By moving at such speed, the darkspawn almost guaranteed that at least a few survivors would be left in their wake, for those that did survive the initial attack there would be no mercy however. A second wave of monsters followed behind the first, dealing with any and all who the bulk of the horde had missed, or bringing those that had been tainted in the first attack into the fold. These ghouls lurched along with the darkspawn, the taint turning their minds into mush, and at the same time filling them with an almost insatiable killing rage._

 _Yes, it looked like no one would have been able to escape the darkspawn that one dark day…_

 _Looks it seemed…could sometimes be…deceiving._

 _A group of darkspawn scouts made it to the ruins of a small farm; they sniffed the air, growled and hissed, scenting non-taint prey. It was at that moment that fire rained down from the heavens, not caused by the darkspawn, no, but something else…someone else._

… _Someone who had not surrendered to death, someone who had not given into the power of the Blight…two someone's in fact._

 _The two women stepped out of the ruins, checking the wounded creatures. One yet lived, and tried to reach for his sword, the elder of the two stepped on the sword, preventing the monster from retrieving it._

 _The Darkspawn howled in impotent rage, only to be consumed by another blast of fire, this coming from the younger woman's hands._

 _For the moment there was silence, but both knew that that would not last._

 _The younger of the two frowned as she looked at the bodies._

" _Scouts, sister," she said coldly, "We will need to face their allies sooner or later."_

 _The elder of the two sighed, just as the next group of darkspawn came over the hill._

" _We make our stand here, Bethany," the older girl said, "Prepare yourself."_

 _IOI_

 _It was in this moment that the tale of the champion truly began. Until that time, Moira Hawke had been nothing, an apostate girl hiding from chantry forces who wished to rip her away from those she loved._

 _She was an athletic looking young woman, slim but shapely, her hair was cut short and raven black, her eyes the color of the morning sky. Her skin was pale; almost porcelain white, the only blemish was the red birthmark that ran across her face, like a blood stain for a war that had not yet come._

 _The apostate girl raised her hand, and brought it down with a swift chopping motion._

 _Fifty darkspawn fell, their bones shattered by the force of her magic._

 _She smiled savagely, delighting in the destruction, but she did not falter._

 _There was far more evil still to come._

 _Next to her, stood her sister Bethany, in the years that followed she would earn her own tales. Though slightly shorter than her soon to be famous sister, Bethany was a beauty in her own right. Her hair shoulder length and raven black, her form full and shapely, honey brown eyes burned with both passion and a fierce intelligence. Many mages would see her over the next couple of years, and fall under her spell, for that was her reputation you see. Bethany Hawke was said to have the face of an innocent, but the soul of a desire demon. Men would happily ride to their deaths to try to win her favor. Mages would walk into a sea of angry Templars if only to have her give them one gentle smile. How many mages would be seduced by her beauty and power? How many would be led astray, destroyed in a war that was still to come._

 _Too many to be sure…_

… _far too many._

" _We cannot keep this up forever Moira," the younger Hawke said, her skin glowing with exertion._

 _The elder Hawke chuckled in response._

" _Perhaps we will get lucky, and the Archdemon will run out of darkspawn?"_

 _Bethany shook her head._

 _Her sister's sense of humor did not amuse her today, all that mattered was their survival, and right now that seemed difficult at best._

" _Here they come," Bethany said narrowing her eyes and lowering her staff._

" _Shall I deal with them?" she asked._

 _Moira smiled._

" _All yours, sister."_

 _Bethany smiled savagely._

 _She gestured as the darkspawn surged forward. A dozen of the monsters burst into flame and fell to the ground._

 _Yet still the monsters came, hungry for death, hungry for corruption._

 _The Hawke sisters met them head on._

 _They were two rebel mages, sired by another rebel mage. They stood alone against the Blight_

 _The Blight…however…was not impressed._

 _The ground shook underfoot, hurlocks and genlocks squealed, trying to get out of the way._

 _An ogre charged through the horde, the giant darkspawn lowered its two foot long horns, it charged like a bull. It intended to run down the two mages._

 _The Hawkes…had other plans._

 _The younger Hawke froze the ground in front of the creature. It skidded on the icy sand. Moira stepped out of the way as the creature slammed into a dead tree. The monster roared in frustration and tried to rise. The future champion threw a small fire ball in its face, the light and the heat only further enraged the creature._

 _Bethany stepped forward; she was frowning, tired of fighting, and tired of her older sister's antics._

 _She pinned the creature in a crushing prison. Yet still the ogre fought trying to free itself._

 _Bethany's brow furrowed in concentration._

" _Quit playing around Moira," she hissed._

" _Finish this beast."_

 _Hawke gave her younger a slightly miffed look._

" _You are no fun," she cooed._

 _She reached out with her hands, her fingers curling as if to grasp something._

 _The magic responded, hands of pure force magic appeared, and seized the ogre by the wrists. The beast howled in surprise and fury. Yet, the elder Hawke was not yet done._

 _She stretched out her arms, struggling with the magic, and strength of the ogre._

 _Sweat beaded the apostate's brow as she pulled, the magic responded._

 _The ogre's howls became pained cries._

 _She smiled slightly, her blue eyes starting to glow._

 _She smirked._

" _Merciful Maker," she murmured._

" _What do they feed you?"_

 _Bethany, who was still close enough to hear, rolled her eyes._

" _Moira!"_

" _Yeah, yeah, yeah," the elder Hawke said._

 _She tightened her grip, yet still the ogre fought._

 _Her eyes flared with aqua fire._

 _No more games, no more quips._

 _Her mouth became a grim line._

" _ **Just. Fucking. Die**_ _!" the mage spat._

 _She jerked her arms wide._

 _The Ogre tore in half; its ruined body fell to the ground._

 _Hawke gasped but still managed a fierce smile._

" _That take cares care of him," she said to her sister._

 _Bethany did not respond._

 _Moira turned, for as far as the eyes could see there were darkspawn, she could see at least two more ogres moving among them, not to mention ghouls, genlocks, and shrieks._

 _Moira shook her head._

" _Damn," she hissed raising her staff._

 _Bethany looked pale, her confidence starting to falter._

" _There is no end to them," she moaned._

 _The elder Hawke raised her staff, ready to cast her next spell._

 _It was then that the clouds parted, it was then that a roar shook the ground, the sound far more terrifying than the ogre's had been._

 _Both Hawke sisters looked up, a high dragon dove through the clouds, it began to dive heading right for the two apostates. The Hawkes raised their staves when…_

 _IOI_

" **BULLSHIT**! That is **not** what really happened!"

Varric smiled slightly, despite Cassandra's outburst. Apparently the Seeker had never heard that it was very rude to interrupt a storyteller when he was working.

Because she was a hero, and she could probably order his execution, he chose to say nothing.

His smile widened.

"Doesn't what I'm saying match the story you have heard, Seeker?" he inquired.

The Nevarran glared at him, clearly not amused.

"I'm not interested in stories, dwarf," she spat, "I'm here to hear the truth."

Varric almost chuckled.

 _The truth_ , she said.

He shook his head.

 _Like the truth was something tangible, that she could grasp it and put it in a ruck sack_.

Arrogance, he thought, pure arrogance.

Varric almost sighed.

He found the story that he had just spun was always received better than the story he _knew_ to be true. Everyone wanted to believe that Moira was the fearless hero who laughed at danger, and that Bethany was the cruel seductress who bent men and women both to her will as a hobby.

Now he did sigh.

The truth was far more… _complicated._

No one wanted to hear how Kirkwall had changed the Hawke sisters, they wanted to believe that it had all been cut and dried from, the very beginning. They did not want to know about the choices, and about the pain and the loss that shaped the daughters of Malcolm and Leandra Hawke.

He looked into the Seekers cold eyes. She already knew what she wanted, she just did not wanted to admit it to herself.

She did not want to hear the truth; she wanted him to confirm her suspicions, about two subversive rebel mages.

He could not do that, he thought.

 _He would not do that._

 _Not to her…not to Moira._

Still, he hid his pain behind a mask of indifference, he was used to that. He was good at that.

He smiled again.

"What makes you think that **I** know the truth?" he demanded.

" **Don't lie to me** ," the Hero of Orlais spat, " **You knew her** _ **before**_ **she even became the champion!** You knew Bethany Hawke as well, before she…she…"

Varric raised his hands in surrender; he had no desire to have the woman start beating on him, not over this.

He let out a tired sigh.

"Even if I knew where she was, or Bethany, I cannot honestly say that I do not know where they are now."

Cassandra growled.

"You will tell me what I want to know," she said turning away from him.

Varric crossed his arms across his chest, he remained silent.

They remained that way for a minute, then two.

Finally, Cassandra Pentaghast sighed.

"Do you have any idea what is at stake here?" she asked.

He snorted with amusement.

"I have ears Seeker," he said, "I've heard what has been going on. The Templars butchered the Circle of Dairsmuid several months ago. In response, a mage force out of Ostwick destroyed two Templar garrisons near Starkhaven; they also raided three villages along the way. That kind of thing is happening in Ferelden and Orlais too, is it not? I've heard that the Divine is calling for peace, but neither side will listen."

The Seeker winced; she had no doubt been aware of the bloodshed.

Varric would make sure that she could not deny it.

"Do I know what is going on here, oh yeah," he said, "Your precious chantry has fallen to pieces and has the entire world on the brink of war."

He leaned forward.

"And you came here searching for the one person that both sides might listen to, maybe even help you pull the whole mess back together, am I right?"

Varric leaned back.

Cassandra sighed heavily.

Varric smiled.

He was pleased that he had made his point.

"The Champion was there when this all began," she said, she turned to him then ,her eyes almost pleading for help, it was a change considering how hostile she had been to him a few moments before.

"If…if you cannot point me to her, at least tell me everything that you know."

Varric snorted at her request.

"You're not worried that I might make it up as I go?"

She gave him a cold look, a _deadly_ look.

"Not at all," she said evenly.

Despite the implied threat, he almost smiled.

Perhaps the Hero of Orlais was not simply a sword of the chantry, he thought.

Perhaps there was more to her.

He leaned back in his chair.

Perhaps she would listen after all.

He took a deep breath.

Perhaps, perhaps it was time to tell the truth.

His eyes narrowed slightly.

 _Didn't he owe Moira that much?_

He settled into his chair, they were likely in for a long night.

"Can I get some water?" he asked.

She glared at him.

He chuckled.

"Didn't think so," he said with a shrug, "oh well."

He crossed his hands in front of his face.

What he was about to tell her, Hawke had only told him the story once.

He hoped he could get it right, for her sake.

He gave the Seeker an amused smile; mainly because he thought it would annoy her.

"You will need to hear the whole story," he said.

Varric tried to get comfortable. Then he began to speak.

He began the whole story, and he told the truth…

…Whether the Seeker was ready for it or not.

 **A/N: Next: The Truth.**


	3. The Truth

**Chapter 3: The Truth**

" _There is something you need to understand Seeker", Varric began, "Champions, any heroes, aren't born, they're forged."_

 _Cassandra crossed her arms again, her eyes narrowed._

" _Not everyone would call the Champion a hero, dwarf," she said coldly._

 _Varric shrugged, and gestured that comment away._

" _Hero, villain, savior, or oppressor, it all depends on who is telling the story doesn't it?"_

 _He gave her that knowing smirk again._

" _Hawke…Moira…she never asked to become the Champion. Bethany…she….she…"_

 _Varric shook his head._

" _She never asked to become what she became either. There were…circumstances, events that pushed Sunshine down a different path than Hawke."_

" _Sunshine?" Cassandra said arching her brow, "Few would refer to Bethany Hawke by such a….title."_

 _Varric snorted again._

" _You didn't know her, not like we did, not before…"_

 _He sighed heavily._

" _I sometimes ask myself: Would they have made the same choices if they knew the consequences? Had you asked them what they wanted, when they were still fresh off the boat from Ferelden, they probably would have told you all they wanted to be left in peace, and that they would be able to live their lives."_

" _You don't know that?" Cassandra said flatly._

" _No, I don't," he agreed, "I only know what came later, but…we are getting ahead of ourselves aren't we?"_

 _He smiled again._

" _You wanted to hear the truth. Well, the truth began in Lothering; the truth began with the Blight."_

" _Yes," Cassandra said, "The two apostates survived the attack by the darkspawn horde."_

" _They were lucky," Varric added, "Carver Hawke that is Bethany's twin brother by the way; he survived the battle of Ostagar. He made it home just in time to warn his family. Hawke…she…she did not like to talk about that, too much pain, I think. They somehow remained hidden, while their village burned around them. When the horde passed by, they broke out, trying to make it to safety."_

" _Not an easy thing, I suspect," the Seeker purred._

" _That is putting it mildly," the dwarf said with a harsh laugh, "But somehow between the girls' magic, and their brother's skill as a warrior they managed to stay one step ahead of the darkspawn hunting packs that were hunting for survivors the bulk of the horde missed."_

 _Varric shook his head again._

" _I've fought darkspawn over the years, and I still can't imagine how the Hawkes did it? They had had training sure, the boy had served briefly in the Ferelden army, the girls had been taught how to defend themselves magically, but the darkspawn live for killing and death, and the Hawkes had their Mother with them as well."_

 _The dwarf sighed._

" _Four people against the horde, it is amazing they even made it out of Lothering."_

 _The Seeker's eyes narrowed._

" _Yes, they made it to Kirkwall," she said, "Hawke had plans no doubt."_

 _Again, Varric chuckled._

" _From what I heard, it was Lady Leandra's idea. That was Hawke's mother, by the way. Maybe she saw this as a chance to go home, to seek refuge and at the same time introduce her family to the life she had been born into."_

 _He sighed again._

" _It is funny," he said, "The fate of the entire world changed with five little words."_

IOI

"We can go to Kirkwall."

Moira blinked, not sure if she had heard her mother correctly. She glanced around at the destruction around them, the darkspawn had left nothing standing, not even a single blade of grass, they could not stay here, but still…

…Kirkwall?

Moira glanced at Bethany; she could see that her little sister was thinking the same thing that she was. After all…they had grown up hearing stories about Kirkwall, the wealth of Hightown from their mother, and…

The young mage grimaced.

The oppressive weight of the Gallows, father had told them about that too. The former prison turned Circle of Magi. That place was in Kirkwall too, along with the largest Templar garrison in the south…

She shook her head.

…Templars that would be more than eager to imprison two young mage girls.

Carver, the eldest and only male of the family frowned at the suggestion.

"That might not be such a good idea, Mother," he said rubbing his right shoulder.

"Yes," Bethany agreed, "There are a lot of Templars in Kirkwall mother."

"Yes," Leandra Hawke said with a sigh, "But we have family there, and an estate. My brother Gamlen would not turn us away, I'm sure of it."

Moira shook her head.

All their lives the Hawkes had done their best to avoid large cities, anywhere where the chantry's Templars could gather in force. They had been fortunate over the years, and had survived with drawing little or no attention to themselves. The six years they had lived in Lothering had been some of the most stable years of their lives…

The mage sighed.

All you had to do was look around at the devastation, see what the darkspawn had done to Lothering that was all it took to know that that chapter of their life was over.

She felt a shiver run down her spine, she had no desire to go anywhere within a hundred paces of the Circle that had held her father when he was young, but now…now….

Did she…did they have any choice?

"We have to go somewhere;" she said meekly, "Kirkwall will work as well as anywhere else."

Carver gave her a stern look, she lowered her blue eyes, momentarily afraid she had spoken out of turn.

She pursed her lips.

She knew that since she was the eldest, she should have taken charge; alas she had never felt strong enough to do that. They might have quarreled over decisions, but he was the one who won, usually…

In truth, she was grateful that he took reins; the people in Lothering had quickly come to respect his strength.

She glanced up at Carver. He had always been stronger; he had always done his best to protect her and Bethany.

She would follow his lead.

He sighed and looked at the desolation around them. It was clear that Lothering was lost, if they stayed…

He snorted.

"Kirkwall," he said, "We can try for it, if we survive that long."

Bethany sighed.

"Then we need to make it to Gwaren and take ship. We can…"

The sound of combat interrupted their conversation, the clash of steel and the high squeals of wounded darkspawn.

Carver drew his sword.

"Bethany stays with mother," he ordered, "Moira come with me."

The young mage's eyes widened.

"Carver…I…"

He glared at her.

"Now, sister," he said flatly, his voice leaving no room for debate.

She drew her staff and followed. They came upon two travelers defending themselves against a darkspawn hunting pack.

The identity of one of the group was a bit of a surprise to Moira and Bethany…

…A great surprise indeed.

IOI

"Apostates! Keep your distance!"

Moira glanced at Bethany, who laughed for the first time since this nightmare began.

"Well it seems that the Maker has a sense of humor," she cooed, "A Templar."

The Templar in question glared at the two women. The chantry warrior was in a bad way, he was pale, and having lost his helmet his short dark hair was a mess. He gripped his sword with a shaking right hand. His formerly shiny armor was splattered with darkspawn blood, his left arm hung limp at his side. He had clearly been badly wounded by the darkspawn.

Yet, even an injury did not silence his tongue.

"The order," he said wincing in pain, "The order dictates…"

"Wesley."

The Templar glanced over at his companion. She was a powerfully built young woman around Moira's age, perhaps a little older. Her red hair was pulled back into a tight braid and held in place by a headband. She was dressed in the kit of a Ferelden soldier.

She frowned at the young man.

The Templar, Wesley, took a deep breath, gathering his strength.

He stepped towards Moira and Bethany; both women took a step back, pulling closer to each other.

"These women are apostates," he said flatly, "The order dictates."

Carver stepped between him and his sisters. Templar and warrior glared at each other. For a moment there was a tense silence.

The red head stepped forward and placed her hand on the Templar's shoulder.

"Love, they saved us, "she purred, "The Maker understands."

The Templar glanced at her, and finally, backed down from his aggressive stance, he likely would not have been a match for Carver in his injured state, but…

…Better safe than sorry.

The woman stepped in front of the wounded Templar.

"I am Aveline Vallen," she said with a slight bow, "This is my husband, Ser Wesley."

She glanced at the two mages.

"We can hate each other after we escape from the horde.

IOI

Moira watched the Templar closely as they made their way over the ruined countryside. Ser Wesley Vallen's sword arm had been crippled by the darkspawn, but that did not mean that she would stop watching him.

The Templar's wife, this Aveline was watching her too. Had it come to a fight, she was not sure if Carver would be able to defeat the woman. She had been an officer in Ferelden army after all, or so she claimed, Carver had been a mere soldier.

Moira shivered.

For the moment the Templar had agreed to put their differences aside, once they escaped from the Horde, however, that would likely change.

She resigned herself to protect Bethany if it came to that. Her little sister was strong, but Moira had had more years of training, Father had made sure that his eldest daughter knew how to defend herself. She had tried to pass on what she had learned, but she feared she was not the teacher that Malcolm Hawke had been.

She feared that Bethany was not as prepared as she should have been.

Several times the darkspawn had tried to ambush them. Between Carver and Aveline's blades, and her and Bethany's magics, they had managed to escape the monsters' traps. The latest one involved what Ser Wesley called a darkspawn emissary, a darkspawn mage…apparently.

The very sight of the creature made Moira ill, the thought that these monsters were smart enough to use magic.

It did not bode well for Ferelden.

Ser Wesley used his Templar abilities to sap the creature of its mana, making it easy prey for his wife. Aveline Vallen seemed to have no fear of the monsters. Moira envied her.

The Templar was forced to stay back with Leandra Hawke; he was in no shape to defend himself in a fight.

The group of survivors pushed on, Carver reasoned that if the bulk of the horde was moving north, they would be safer if they cut along the edge of the Korcari Wilds, with luck they would be able to slip south far enough that they might be able to slip by the horde unnoticed.

Given the only other choice was to go north and bump into the bulk of the horde, south it was.

The survivors scavenged what they could as they continued on their journey. Many had fallen fleeing the wilds, their supplies were useless the darkspawn and were abandoned as a result.

Hawke shook her head as she went through the ruck sack of a slain Ferelden soldier. The man had died in terror; his dead eyes reflected that fear.

She shivered, and hated herself for it.

Maker, she prayed.

Give me strength.

Don't let me die a coward.

The group made it to a small plateau, in the distance they could make out trees; the swamp land that made up the Korcari wilds seemed to have endured the horde's passing better than the farmlands around Lothering.

It was then that they all felt the ground shake. Everyone glanced around, fearing perhaps an earthquake.

In the end, perhaps it would have been better had it been one.

Ser Wesley shoved Bethany and Moira out of the way as a massive darkspawn charged out of the mists. The creature was twice the size of a man, with horns as long as a knight's arm.

Moira almost gasped.

This could only be one thing, she thought.

An ogre.

The ogre snarled and looked down to its right. Aveline had been forced to dive out of the way of the creature's charge as well. That left only two of their party standing.

Carver and Mother.

The young warrior motioned his mother to get back; he waved his great sword threateningly.

The darkspawn threw back its head and roared.

Carver glared at it.

"You soulless bastard," he hissed.

He lunged forward, attempting to bury his blade into the beast's chest. The creature blocked his strike with a bracer the size of a kite shield. It hissed and reached down.

The monster caught Carver in its iron grip; it bashed the warrior against the ground like a rag doll. Then with little or no regard it tossed the boy away.

Leandra shrieked, she called her son's name and ran to him.

The darkspawn hissed and began to reach for the woman.

Moira's eyes widened.

In that moment, something inside her snapped.

She had thought about that moment many times in the years after that. She never was able to completely understand what had happened. All she remembered was that the world turned red.

And when it was over, the darkspawn was dead. It had died badly, its flesh charred and blistered, its arms torn off by power that Moira had never even realized that she possessed, but in the end it had not mattered.

Carver had fallen.

Her little brother was dead, her mother's little boy, and it was all her fault.

She gulped.

Mother had wailed that as she held Carver's broken body in her arms.

 **"Carver!"**

 **"NO!"**

Moira had tried to comfort her; Leandra had swatted her hand away.

 **"Don't touch me,"** she spat, "this is all **your** fault!

Moira winced.

" **Damn you girl** ," Leandra spat.

" **Damn you**!"

Bethany went to her then, tears flowing down her cheeks.

"Mother…we…we can't stay here," she almost sobbed, "Carver would not want…want…this…this to be meaningless."

Leandra whimpered, but she let her youngest daughter help her to her feet. Aveline glanced around looking for a safe direction for them to head when.

The warrior snarled, drawing her sword.

"Flames," she hissed, "We're too late."

All around them the darkspawn surged, the creatures hissed and chortled with their phlegmy laughter.

Moira, heartbroken over the loss of her brother raised her staff. She had lost Carver.

She would do what she could to make sure they did not lose anyone else, or at the least take as many of the monsters with her before she fell.

She glared at the darkspawn.

She had failed Carver; he was no longer here to protect them.

She would not let his death be in vain.

Behind her she heard Bethany whimper, she tried not think of the fear that her sister likely felt right now.

"There is no end to them," the youngest Hawke almost sobbed.

Moira's eyes narrowed.

We're going to die, she thought.

She glared at the misshapened monsters.

She would make sure that they did not die alone.

The darkspawn howled and surged forward.

Moira braced for death.

A wall of flame separated them from, the attacking darkspawn. The monsters squealed in pain and terror!

Moira looked skyward.

A high dragon banked over the plateau, it roared again and sprayed fire from its mouth. The flames scattered the darkspawn.

The dragon dove, scooping up several of the darkspawn in her powerful talons. She took them high into the sky and let them fall.

The dragon dove and landed in the midst of the monsters, three more quick bursts of flame and the last of the darkspawn fell.

The dragon glared at the survivors.

Moira stood before the great beast, lost in shock and awe.

The dragon began to glow, it seemed to spin, shrinking, the light brightened, almost to that of the sun. The young mage had to shield her eyes.

When it was over, the dragon was gone, but in its place, before them stood an old woman.

Her long white hair was done up in way to resemble dragon's horns, the armor that covered her body looked quite old, perhaps old enough to have been forged during the days of the old tribes. A black tiara covered her brow, giving her an almost regal appearance.

She smiled, her amber colored eyes lit with cruel amusement. She looked down at a burned darkspawn at her feet.

She chuckled to herself and gestured the flames before her went out.

She made her way over to Moira and the other survivors.

"Well, well," she said in a silky voice, "What have we here?"

Moira remained frozen, unable to speak.

Behind her she heard the clank of metal, she risked a glance back, Ser Wesley lay on the ground, coughing. Aveline went to her husband's side, though the warrior kept her eye on the old woman approaching. If the old woman was insulted she did not show it.

The woman smirked at Moira.

"Speak up girl," she said, "What is the matter, cat got your tongue?"

Moira swallowed hard.

"Are…are you a dragon?" she asked.

The old woman cackled.

"Perhaps child," she said, "Perhaps, if I am, be grateful, the stench of burning darkspawn does little for the appetite."

She glanced over at the carnage left by the darkspawn, especially at Carver's body.

She started to step towards him.

Leandra stepped in front of her.

"Leave my son alone," she spat.

The old woman smiled.

"He is dead, little one," she cooed.

"Even I cannot harm the dead."

Leandra glared at her, and might have said something she might have regretted, but at that moment Bethany stepped before her.

"Who are you," the youngest Hawke demanded.

The woman's amber eyes twinkled with cruel amusement.

Before she could answer, Aveline spoke up.

"I know what she is," the warrior said, "She is the witch of the wilds."

The witch grinned at her.

"Some call me that," she said cackling, "Also Flemeth, _Asha'belannnar_ , or just an old hag who talks too much."

The witch shook her head.

She once again looked at Moira.

"What **I** am however, pales in comparison to **you** , dear girl," she cooed.

Moira wilted under those cold amber eyes.

She wanted to disappear, but alas, knew that was impossible.

Flemeth, the witch of the wilds had found them.

Hawke swallowed hard.

She doubted that she would just let them go.

 **A/N: So what do you think? If you are reading Stormbreaker, you know that this was not the end of Carver. If you have any opinions or insights please let me know. I always like reading a review.**

 **Until next time dear readers.**

 **DG**


	4. The Witch

**Chapter 4: The Witch**

" _Flemeth?"_

 _Varric smiled slightly, the skeptical look on the Seeker's face was to be expected. Still…he was only telling her what Hawke had told him. Not that it had been easy getting it out of her mind you._

 _He shook his head at the memory._

 _Hawke had been pretty drunk that night; one of the first times he had ever seen her drunk in fact._

 _The memory brought back a few things, both good and bad. He did his best to hide the painful things. The seeker was not the type of person to extend sympathy._

" _Yes," he said, "I thought you might find this part of the story interesting."_

 _Cassandra paced before him._

" _You expect me to believe that a myth swooped out of the wilds and saved the Champion?"_

" _Come now, Seeker," the dwarf chuckled, "Surely you do not need me to tell you the tale of the warden as well?"_

 _The mention of the legendary Hero of Ferelden made the Seeker pause. Varric could not be sure what she might have been thinking at that moment, but it was clear that he had struck a nerve._

 _Finally, the warrior woman frowned._

" _Yes," she agreed, "I should not be surprised that the witch was involved in all this."_

" _I like_ _ **my**_ _version better too," Varric said with a shrug._

 _Again the Seeker frowned._

" _We are not here to discuss what Surana Stormbreaker said or did not say," The woman growled, "We were discussing the Champion, and her flight from Lothering."_

 _Varric did his best not to show any emotion._

 _What was this, he thought, did the Seeker know the Hero of Ferelden? It was possible he supposed. It was said that Alim Surana had moved in high places before he had finally disappeared. Most people these days thought him dead. More than a few said he died in the final battle with the Archdemon almost ten years ago. That all the Stormbreaker sightings these last eight years or so were just wishful thinking at best, like people who claimed to see a still living King Cailan of Ferelden, or Flemeth for that matter._

 _Varric frowned._

 _The Seekers were not gullible, perhaps Surana_ _ **was**_ _still alive? Perhaps they had talked to him, or…to someone who had known him. More than a few of the wardens' old companions were still wandering either the places of power, or the dark corners of Thedas._

 _Whether the warden was still alive or not did not matter he supposed, this was about Hawke, and the Seeker still had questions._

" _Tell me," she said crossing her arms, "Did the witch send anyone with the Champion that day?"_

 _Varric swallowed, and tried to keep his face bland and uncaring._

" _In a matter of speaking," he murmured._

 _The Seeker nodded grimly._

" _So it is true," she said, "We should have guessed."_

 _Varric did not respond._

 _Few people in Thedas knew that Flemeth had given Hawke and amulet to bring to the Dalish in Kirkwall. It was not a fact he included in every telling of the story. Some versions did not even mention Flemeth, hence the Seeker's skepticism._

 _How did she know about the amulet, and what it contained? A question he might have to answer later provided he survived this interrogation._

 _The Seeker volunteered no information, not that he was expecting any._

" _Continue," she said, "But if you try to tell me that they all flew to Kirkwall on a dragon?"_

 _Varric chuckled._

" _Nothing so fanciful," he said, "I assure you."_

IOI

Moira shivered against the cold dark night.

She held her arms close to her chest, trying to preserve warmth, as her father had taught her years ago. The others were asleep, not far from where she lay, Aveline had been trying to keep watch, but after all the stress of the last few days, even the hardened soldier was exhausted.

Hawke sighed.

The Witch had promised that they would be safe. She had given them her word that she would see them safely to the Brecilian Passage; from there they would soon be able to reach Gwaren, and from there find a ship.

At least, Hawke thought with a shiver, we hope.

She shifted against the ground, unable to sleep. Her actions, her failures, of the last few days haunted her. The others stayed close to each other, avoiding her gaze. She suspected that they blamed her for everything that had gone wrong.

Sadly, she could not help but agree with them.

The mage resisted the sob that tried to escape from her throat.

She tried to keep from surrendering to sorrow, or despair, but it was not an easy thing. The past few days haunted her.

She could not even settle down enough to find a moment of sleep.

Every time she closed her eyes she saw Carver being cast down by that ogre, being tossed away like a piece of unwanted trash.

The memory haunted her, that and her mother's wailing accusations.

If it was not that, she saw the face of Ser Wesley; the Templar was always looking at her with white milky eyes, his pale skin already showing signs of the coming of black sores.

The young mage shuddered.

The Blight sickness had taken the Templar. The taint was within him, if it did not kill him, it would have turned him into a ghoul. He would have joined the darkspawn horde, maybe even have turned on them.

Moira…had not allowed that to happen.

The Templar had begged his wife to end his suffering, Aveline, as strong as she was could not, not that Hawke blamed her. What the Templar was asking for was a mercy, but it was a dark mercy.

No wife should be forced to end the life of the man she loved.

Moira was not sure what had motivated her to take matters into her own hands, to spare Aveline the pain of doing what needed to be done.

Hawke had taken Wesley's knife and driven it into his chest, it had been a mercy killing. She had taken no pleasure from the act.

It was just something that needed to be done.

It was strange, Moira thought, Carver's death, it…it had forced her to step into a role that she had never been brave enough to step into before. She should have been frozen after her little brother had died, should have wailed in despair, as mother had, but strangely enough, she had found the strength to accept the witch's offer. She would take the woman's amulet to the Dalish clan living near the city of Kirkwall, and she would do whatever their keeper asked that they needed to do with it.

That was the deal that was the price for their deliverance.

She shivered as another cold gust of wind washed over their tiny camp. The weight of the debt was heavy, but she would pay it.

A Hawke always paid her debts, Father had taught her that.

The sound of what might have been wings roused her from her melancholy.

She glanced up to find the witch standing watch over their tiny camp. Despite the cold they knew that they could not risk a fire. They were moving beyond the reach of the horde, but it was still possible that darkspawn packs were still out there somewhere, hunting for any unfortunate survivors.

The moon was half full, providing them just enough light to see by. The witch said that her magic would shield them from the darkspawn.

Moira sat up, she watched the witch for a time. The old woman did not even acknowledge her, just stared out into the night.

When she finally spoke, it startled the young mage.

"It has begun," Flemeth purred softly.

Hawke shivered, something in the witch's words felt like someone had just walked over her grave.

"What…what has begun," she managed to ask.

The witch glanced at her with amber eyes.

"Those you travel with," she said, "They avoid being close to you, they can…sense that you are no longer simply one of them."

The witch smirked.

"Do not be afraid of being alone, dear girl," she cooed, "The great ones are always alone…in the end."

Hawke's blue eyes narrowed.

"There is nothing great about me," she said defensively, "I'm just me."

Flemeth cackled to herself.

"Tell that to the ogre, dear girl," she said, "He learned of your greatness a little too late, don't you think?"

Moira was on her feet, she went to the witch's side. For a moment the two stared out into the darkness together. Even at night they could see the strange clouds that followed the darkspawn horde, the rainbow lightning jumping from cloud to cloud.

Moira shuddered.

She glanced over at the witch, earlier, right after sunset, the witch had vanished, perhaps changed shape and flew off. The group might have moved on, but by then it was too dark to see, they knew they had to wait until morning.

Now…the old woman had returned, that tiny part of Hawke that had been awakened by her brother's death now reared up again, trying to fill the timid mage with courage.

"We thought you left us," she said, a statement, not an accusation.

Flemeth chuckled.

"No game is won without pawns, clever child," she cooed, "I needed to go and set one of my pawns in motion."

Moira pursed her lips. She could not imagine what kind of game the witch was playing, not with so much death all around them.

Perhaps it was better that she not know, she thought, knowing things could be costly…expensive.

She was already in the witch's debt.

She did not wish to be any deeper in it.

Moira shivered. She stood there watching the distant horde.

Once again, she found her strange tiny bit of courage.

"Do you see the future?" she asked.

Flemeth might have smiled; it was hard to tell in all this darkness.

"I would say, that I know just enough."

Moira nodded, it was not much of an answer, but it was likely the only one she would get.

"Is Ferelden doomed?" she asked.

Flemeth's expression remained unreadable.

"The wardens have not failed, yet," she said, "A few still live, I've given them what they need to continue their journey, and a pawn to watch over them should they get in over there head."

Moira's eyes narrowed.

"What kind of a pawn?" she asked.

Flemeth chuckled.

"The kind that has no choice," she said coolly, for a moment Hawke feared that she had insulted the witch, but Flemeth chose to say nothing more.

Whoever this pawn was, she realized, she pitied him, or her.

The witch did not strike her as one who went easy on those who failed her.

Flemeth glanced at the young mage; she seemed to be looking right through her, seeing into her very soul.

It was a most disturbing experience.

Moira almost retreated back to her companions then, ran back to the others and forgot she had even been brave enough to come here.

Strangely enough, she did not retreat.

She still had questions she realized.

She was at least brave enough to demand answers.

"You…um…you said something to me, back where we first met."

Flemeth grinned.

"I said many things," the witch said dryly.

"About me," Hawke clarified, "What…what was it? Oh yes. Hurtled into the chaos you fight, and the world will shake before you."

Flemeth cackled slightly.

"Did I say those words? Perhaps, I'm a very old woman, dear girl; my memory is not what it once was?"

Moira's eyes narrowed, she got the feeling the witch was playing games with her.

She did not like that, not one bit.

If Flemeth was afraid of her anger she did not let it show, quite the opposite in fact, the witch seemed genuinely amused by their little conversation.

The witch raised her hand, she gestured in midair Hawke felt a bit of magic pass between them.

The experience made her shudder.

The witch let out a tired sigh, for a moment, she appeared to be simply a very old, very weary woman, just for a moment.

Those amber eyes pierced Hawke's blue ones.

"Some answers cannot simply be given, dear girl," she said, "Some must be found, ripped from the darkness with your bare hands."

Flemeth smiled anew.

"You are a clever child," she said, "I can say that. I saw it the moment you fought that ogre. Bravery and foolishness are sometimes close cousins."

Moira blinked.

"And what am I?" she asked.

"A brave fool," Flemeth cackled, "Or perhaps a foolish girl who is far too brave for her own good. Only time will give you that answer."

Flemeth once again turned to face the distant horde.

"In Kirkwall," she cooed, "You will find your answers. It will be then up to you to decide what you are going to do with them. The Blight has always brought change. Even if those few grey wardens lost in the wilderness end this Blight, the world will be changed."

Flemeth looked at Hawke with those ageless amber eyes.

"The Blight has already changed you; it will be interesting to see how much."

Hawke said nothing, what could she say.

The witch said nothing more, she seemed content to let what passed between them be all that there was to be said.

Hawke retreated back to her family, even if they hated her, it was better than the cold emptiness that the witch lived with.

Still, the young mage could not help but shudder, and for once it had nothing to do with the cold.

She thought about what Flemeth had said.

 _The great ones are always alone…in the end._

That…and:

 _No game is won without pawns._

The only question now was this…

Was she great, a pawn, or both?

The mage shuddered again.

She didn't really want to know the answer to that question.

In the end she lay down, and tried to sleep.

Carver and Wesley were waiting when she finally closed her eyes, that and the witch smiling at her.

 _The great ones are always alone._

She thought long and hard on that…

…and in that moment…she was afraid.


	5. Criminal

**Chapter 5: Criminal**

" _The witch kept her word."_

 _Varric shifted slightly in his chair. Cassandra continued to watch him, expecting him to try and distract her by going off topic._

 _The dwarf almost smiled._

 _He was going to surprise her._

 _This story, the **whole** story had been kept quiet for too long. Perhaps now he had finally found an audience who would accept what happened for what it was…_

 _He frowned slightly._

 _Or…the Seeker would just sweep this all under the rug, kill him, and make up any story she liked to try and save her precious chantry._

 _It was not a thought that appealed to Varric, but he saw little opportunity to change it, at least…not now._

 _So he did what he did best._

 _He told the story._

" _They made it to Gwaren, where they took ship. For weeks they made the journey across the Waking Sea, lashed by terrible storms."_

 _He found himself thinking about Hawke, Moira hated sea travel, said she had felt queasy for a week after they finally arrived._

 _Where ever she was now, he hoped she had found a better form of passage than a boat._

" _There they were," he continued, "Packed in with the fearful and the desperate, and then…they saw it…"_

 _He paused for dramatic effect as he always did at such parts. The Seeker glared at him. Apparently she did not have a feel for artistic license._

" _Kirkwall," he said, "the City of Chains, if you pass through those black cliffs you see what the slaves of old saw, the Gallows, welcoming you."_

 _Varric Leaned back in his chair, his mouth really felt dry; typically he had a pint or at least a glass of water at his side when he told stories._

 _He doubted the Seeker would allow such things; after all, this was an interrogation._

" _And the Templars," Cassandra said coolly, "They did not notice the Champion's presence among them?"_

" _Wasn't there myself," he said with shrug, "Though from what I hear, Knight Commander Meredith had the whole Gallows on lock down during the mass exodus from Ferelden. She had no desire to have her mages mixing with refugees, just in case they got any ideas."_

 _Varric pursed his lips._

 _He remembered what Moira and Bethany had been like back then. They had spent three days camped out in the Gallows courtyard. How trying that must have been for the two apostates. They had to have known that they were only one wrong move away from joining the mages locked up behind those walls._

 _Had being so close to that fear affected them, probably. It might even explain what had happened to Sunshine later. How she had taken such a completely different stance than her sister._

 _Whatever had caused the change, it had occurred. The Hawke sisters had been put on two entirely different paths, for good or ill._

 _He chose not to mention that to Cassandra Pentaghast._

 _The Seeker's eyes narrowed._

" _I have heard that the city's criminal element aided the Champion's entrance into the city. Were they members of the mage underground, attempting to bring a dangerous apostate into the city?"_

 _Varric chuckled at that._

" _That wasn't what happened. The Hawke family made it out of Ferelden with just the clothes on their backs and what they could scavenge along the way. Lady Leandra had hoped that her brother Gamlen would welcome them back into the noble House of Amell. Unfortunately, Gamlen Amell had lost the estate, and all of the money that had gone with it. He had no coin to aid the Hawkes in paying the bribes needed to enter the city."_

 _Varric shook his head._

 _Both Hawke and Leandra were far too nice to Gamlen, the man was a weasel, and that was coming from him, a man who spent a lot of time in…shady company._

" _Gamlen had a contact, a smuggler; she agreed to pay the bribes needed to get Hawke in. Of course, now the Champion and her sister was in her debt, and spent the next year in indentured servitude."_

 _Cassandra shook her head._

 _Varric gave her an arched look._

" _What?" he asked._

 _The Seeker frowned._

" _That the Champion would become a common criminal," she said, "It gives credence to much that happened later."_

 _Now Varric frowned. He tried to hide his anger and frustration, but it wasn't easy._

 _Hawke deserved better than such...persecution._

" _Try to understand Seeker," he said, suddenly feeling very protective of his friend, "Hawke had nothing when she came to Kirkwall,_ _ **nothing.**_ _She needed to get her family some place safe. The smugglers offered her that."_

 _Varric leaned back in his chair._

" _Tell me, if you had a choice between letting your loved ones starve, or turning to crime to make sure that they lived another day, what would you do?"_

 _Cassandra did not respond, she might have been considering his words, or she might have been so lost in her self-righteousness that she did not care._

 _Finally, she sighed._

" _You have made your point," she said, "Continue."_

 _A hint of a smile played across Varric's lips._

 _It was a small victory perhaps, but he would take it._

 _He thought back to that time, back when he had still been just a younger son trying to keep the merchant's guild out of his brother's hair. Back then, he had only heard Hawke's name in passing, but it was a name that had slowly began to carry a lot of weight._

 _It had been **his** contacts that first suggested Bartrand's the deep roads expedition to Hawke; put that particular bee in her bonnet, as it were. It had served them both well, but had also caused a great deal of pain._

 _He frowned slightly._

 _Perhaps it would have been better had Hawke stayed with the smugglers. Perhaps it would have been better for both her and her sister had they not struck out on their own?_

 _Perhaps._

IOI

" **Hawke!** Athenril wants to see you."

Moira looked up from her work. She had managed to heal Camden's leg, but it would likely be quite tender for the next day or two. Behind her Bethany moved among the other survivors, offering a kind word or healing touch where it was needed. They had only been with the group about three months, but both of the Hawke sister's had quickly risen in esteem among their gang.

Hawke rose and dusted herself off; the filth of the Undercity still clung to the heavy robes Athenril made her wear when she was working. The robes, along with the full hood and veil were meant to protect their identities from any rivals who might think to use the Templars to remove the new magical edge from the elven smuggler's organization. Such a thing was frowned upon, given the fact that the Hawkes were not the only mages operating in the underworld, but it did happen.

It was like mother always said: Better safe than sorry.

Hawke gently pushed her way through the milling smugglers that were now her fellow workers and employers. Most nodded as she passed by, some still were a little leery of her and Bethany, but all were grateful that they had the Hawkes on their side.

If not for the two mages, the coterie would have killed them all today.

It had been a simple job, pick up the cargo on the wounded coast, bring it into the city via a cave entrance connected to Darktown, it should have been a walk in a park.

Instead, it had turned into a total fur ball!

The coterie, an alliance of mostly human gangs in the city, had been trying to drive out or kill off any independent operators working in Kirkwall. Athenril usually went beneath their notice, smuggling small amounts of luxury goods for a fair, yet slightly inflated price. Today however, the Coterie had tried to take over his business.

They had a group of archers set up along some high ground just inside of Darktown. The battle should have been over quick, with Athenril and all of her men dying without a chance to defend themselves.

The Hawkes changed that.

Bethany, always more skilled at creating protective shields than her elder sister, had allowed them to survive the first volley. It had then fallen to Moira. Athenril had not been looking for precision; she needed the coterie boys scattered, unable to aid each other. In short, she needed Hawke to wreak havoc.

As it turns out, she was quite good at that.

She threw flame and ice at the coterie boys. Some of their number drew swords and tried to charge, but she had managed to turn the floor slick with ice before they could even get within range. It had been a small advantage, but it had been just what Athenril and her boys had needed.

What should have been a massacre turned into a real battle.

Moira had done what she could to help. It had been almost five months since Lothering. She was still trying to find the power within her that had allowed her to destroy that ogre almost single handed. She had spoken with Aveline and Bethany about it, both agreed that they had never seen anything like it. Moira had summoned a kind of force magic, she had used it to rip the Ogre in half, but only after she had burned it into submission.

Moira shook her head.

Father had always said she had…potential. Part of her wondered if by unleashing that power, she would have access to it constantly. She tried again and again to find the power she had used, but so far, she had had no luck. Her magical abilities remained at the level she was familiar with.

Athenril did her best to help improve their skills. The smuggler had managed to find books for her and Bethany to study, new spells that would be useful for their work.

The Hawkes had accepted these in the spirit that they were given, but still, they both kept their eye on the prize, being free of Athenril once they had paid off their debt. They had not escaped the darkspawn to spend their lives as common criminals living in Lowtown.

Mother deserved better.

They all deserved better.

Just nine more months, she thought to herself…

…just nine more.

She found their employer sitting by their crates of goods, cataloging the take, and making sure what they had had survived the brief fight with the coterie.

Athenril was a slender elven woman with blonde hair and dark blue eyes. Her long face and equally long ears gave her features kind of lupine quality. It was likely not comparison she would have disputed. Athenril was a bit of a she-wolf after all, trying her best to carve out a place for herself in the Kirkwall underworld.

Hawke stood respectfully before her employer, waiting for her to take notice. When a minute passed, and still the elf did not, Hawke cleared her throat.

Athenril turned to face her.

Hawke cowed slightly.

"You…um…you wished to…um…see…me…Ma'am?"

The smuggler chieftain chuckled.

"Yeah," she said, "I wanted to congratulate you for getting out of that little…problem with the coterie. You aren't in trouble so there is no need to stand their waiting to get a tongue lashing."

Moira relaxed slightly.

The elf shook her head.

"We need to work on your self-esteem, Hawke," she said opening up another crate, this one was full of aged wine, she counted it twice before turning her attention back to her indentured employee.

"In the three months you have been here, you have saved our asses more than once. People tend to notice that, you wanna be safe in this line of work, a tough reputation helps quite a bit, trust me."

Hawke smiled meekly.

"My sister spent the bulk of our lives trying not to get noticed," she said, "It was the only way to keep safe."

Athenril's ears twitched.

"There is value in no one knowing who you are, that is true, but at the same time, you should not be afraid to let people know just what you are capable of, it can buy you powerful friends, if you play your cards right.

"Or make dangerous enemies," Hawke added.

"That goes hand in hand," the elf said, "You get something, there will always be someone out there that wants to take it away from you. You can be cautious of them, maybe even maintain a healthy dose of fear of them, but at the same time, it never hurts to cultivate a little fear in them as well. You fight fear, with fear, Hawke, fear and power."

The smuggler tossed her a small silver amulet, the stone glowed red when Hawke touched it.

Athenril smiled.

"That little trinket came from the local Circle," she said, "It is supposed to enhance flame spells, figured you could get some use out of it."

Hawke nodded. She had heard of such talismans before, but this was the first time she had actually got to touch one. A week ago, the elf had given Bethany a ring that was supposed to improve her shield spells.

If her little sister's performance today was any indication, they seemed to be working.

Athenril jotted down some notes on a piece of parchment. She glanced up again at the mage.

"Have you seen your friend Aveline lately," she inquired, "I might have some work for her, if she is interested."

Hawke winced.

Aveline was still with them of course, her only friends in Kirkwall was the Hawke family, early on she had did some strong arm work for Athenril, debt collecting.

The red haired soldier had not liked that much. Most of the people Athenril had her threaten were greedy little toads that took the elf's money then tried to get out of paying it because they thought that no one would care if they stiffed an elf on their bill.

Aveline had not minded collecting on those people, the little toads deserve it, she had said. It was when Athenril asked her to extort money out of an innocent local business man that the woman had left.

"She is doing bodyguard work now," Hawke informed the elf, "she seems to like it."

The smuggler snorted.

"Doesn't like doing the kind of work we offer, eh?" the elf purred, "Too much of a straight arrow that one."

Hawke said nothing, worried that her employer might get angry.

Athenril shrugged.

"Oh well," she said, "Plenty of strong Ferelden volunteers looking to earn a few coins in this city. I will find someone."

Moira held back a sigh of relief.

One crisis averted she thought.

Aveline would never do anything to jeopardize the Hawkes here in Kirkwall; she was too loyal a friend to do that, especially after all they had been through. She was also smart enough to realize that being a bodyguard was not the life for her.

Hawke had heard word that she had put in an application with the City Guard. It would not be easy of course, she may have been an officer in King Cailan's army, but she was not the only sword looking for work out there.

Hawke hoped that her friend would find her place; she was too good to remain on the fringes. As mages, she and Bethany had to remain there, but Aveline…

There was still hope for Aveline.

Athenril pulled a small pouch from her belt; she reached in and plucked out two sovereigns. She rolled one between her knuckles before tossing it, and its counterpart to Hawke.

The mage gave the smuggler an arched look.

Again the elf smirked with amusement.

"You may be under contract," she said, "But that does not mean that I do not reward good work. In fact, I hope you two will consider staying on when your contract ends."

The elf smiled.

"We can always use people with your skills, Bethany's too."

Moira considered that. She looked down at the two sovereigns, it would be enough to buy a few things for Gamlen's hovel, it would also mean a break from the porridge and cheese that Uncle Gamlen felt was okay for breakfast, lunch, and dinner. It would be nice…for a change.

She sighed to herself.

She knew that she had no right to be mad at Uncle Gamlen. He had introduced them to Athenril, and got them into this city. If not for him, they would have been forced to squat in the Undercity, or been forced to live in one of the refugee camps outside the city.

Four walls and a roof, it was more than most Fereldans had here in Kirkwall.

"I will consider your offer, Ma'am," Hawke said with a respectful bow.

Athenril nodded and went back to her work.

Moira pocketed the two sovereigns and went to see if Bethany needed anything.

She had not lied, she would consider Athenril's offer, but at the same time she would keep her eye on the prize.

Getting out of debt, getting out of Lowtown, and giving her family the life they deserved.

Moira's back straightened, she drew determination from those thoughts.

Nine more months, she thought…

…just nine more months.


	6. Dwarves

**Chapter 6: Dwarves**

" _Thus began the champion's first year in Kirkwall."_

 _Varric coughed slightly, unused to talking so much with nothing to keep his throat from getting dry. It was then that the Seeker surprised him; she stepped over to a pitcher against the shadowed back wall and poured some water into a tumbler._

 _She handed it the dwarf, saying nothing._

 _He smiled._

" _Thanks," he said raising the cup._

 _The Seeker, of course, said nothing._

 _He took a drink and continued on._

" _A few months later we received word from across the sea, the Hero of Ferelden and his allies had defeated the Blight. Yet, it did not change the fact that much of southern Ferelden had been destroyed, including the village of Lothering. Kirkwall, for better or worse, was the champion's home now."_

 _Varric sighed and leaned back in his chair._

" _That was a busy year in the city. It was the year that the Qunari landed; one of their ships had run aground off the wounded coast, stranding hundreds of warriors, warriors that now had to wait for a rescue ship to return home."_

 _The dwarf shook his head at the memory._

 _He had seen Qunari dreadnaughts in action. A few years back his friend Isabela had roped into helping the King of Ferelden on a secret mission. They had run afoul of the Qunari, the ox-men had long memories, what had happened in Kirkwall years earlier had not been forgiven or forgotten._

 _If not for the king, they may not have survived that encounter or the one that came later._

 _Once again, he did not mention that to the Seeker, that had been king's issue, it had nothing to do with what Cassandra Pentaghast wanted._

" _It was also the year that the real trouble began with the mages," he continued, "The Templars had grown extremely powerful under Knight-Commander Meredith."_

 _He paused in his telling; he gave the Seeker an arched look._

" _Yes?" she said._

" _So far_ _ **I've**_ _done all the talking," he said, "I wonder if you could answer a question for me, since we are here and all."_

 _Cassandra glared at him, yet it was clear she was considering his request._

" _One question only," the dwarf promised, "then I will get back to Hawke."_

 _Cassandra pursed her lips._

" _Very well," she said finally, "Ask."_

 _Varric steepled his hands in front of him, his face had turned grimly serious._

" _I've always heard," he said, "That the Seekers of the Truth were supposed to keep the Templars in check. They watch the mages, you watch the Templars; that is the way it is supposed to go, yeah?"_

" _I suppose," Cassandra answered._

" _Well," Varric said, "Maybe then you can tell me how your order missed what was going on in the Gallows. I mean there had to have been complaints made to the Divine. Didn't your sources even suggest that_ _ **maybe**_ _something rotten had taken root in the Gallows? Had your order truly heard nothing?"_

 _The Seeker frowned. She looked away from her dwarven captive._

 _Varric was not sure, but he thought he might have seen a bit of shame in the hard woman's face._

" _There…there were reports," she admitted, "But at the time, we were also getting just as many reports of corruption from within the Kirkwall Circle. Our leaders decided that Meredith's methods, though extreme, were the best bet to keep the Circle in check."_

 _Varric shook his head._

" _It is all cause and effect isn't it?" he asked, "Was the iron lady's policies a response to the corruption in the Circle, or did the corruption come into it be because of her policies?"_

 _Cassandra had no answer._

 _Varric looked down at his hands._

" _We both know where that corruption and those policies ended don't we?"_

 _He flung out his hands, his fingers moving like they had been blown apart, that and he gave the Seeker a mean smile._

" _Boom," he said coldly._

 _Cassandra's eyes narrowed._

" _You were going to continue your story," she reminded, "what happened in the Gallows cannot be changed."_

 _Varric chuckled bitterly._

" _That it can't Seeker," he agreed, "That it can't."_

 _Cassandra's eyes narrowed._

" _Hawke," she snarled, "Now."_

 _Varric sighed._

" _Very well, Seeker, very well, okay, the year the Blight ended. Hawke chose to stay in Kirkwall, paying off her debt, and at the same time making a name for herself in the underworld."_

 _He smiled slightly._

" _It was also the year that my brother decided to make an expedition into the deep roads. It was the year, that **I** met the Champion."_

IOI

Varric stood in the shadows of the paragon statues that dotted the area of Kirkwall that served as the headquarters for the Dwarven Merchant's guild. He did his best to stay out of the way, he had no desire to be pestered by some idiot trying to get his brother's attention on this business deal or that.

He kept his eyes on the doors of the estate that served as his brother's headquarters. The Hawke sisters had entered about twenty minutes ago, by now they should have just managed to breach the bureaucracy that protected Bartrand Tethras from being bothered by those he considered fools.

Varric smiled slightly.

This meant that Bartrand should be throwing the two humans out, any minute now.

He intended to be here when that happened, to pick up the pieces when Bartrand threw away a valuable resource, as he always seemed to do.

Varric had tried to let his brother know about the Hawke sisters. Athenril's smuggling group had survived the latest Coterie attempted purge, according to his sources, the main reason they had was because of the Hawkes.

Bartrand was no fool, Varric truly believed that, but he let his ego, not to mention his greed, get in the way of a good business deal far too often. When most people tried to go into the deep roads, the first thing they did was go to the circle to petition for the use of one of their mages. It never hurt to have a little extra firepower on your side, not to mention the ability to magically heal wounds…

As far as he knew, Bartrand had not even tried to contact the circle, _too expensive_ he likely thought.

Expensive sure, Varric agreed, but also necessary. A mage could tip the balance of any battle. He preferred to have at least one on their side if they found themselves trapped in the deep roads with a hundred darkspawn between them and the exit.

That is where the Hawkes came in.

It had not been easy learning that Hawke and her sister were both apostates, but it had been worth it. He also knew that Hawke's contract with Athenril was done, which meant that the mage would be looking for a new backer, someone to keep the Templars off their backs.

Varric's grin widened.

House Tethras could do that, **he** could do that.

There was a bit of a scuffle, several dwarven merchants almost jumped out of the way.

Varric's eyes narrowed.

Knight Commander Meredith made her way down the street, flanked by four of her bodyguards. The Iron Lady of Kirkwall did not look like your typical Templar. She wore the traditional kilt of the order, but her fine steel and silverite breast plate was unmarked. Her blonde hair was covered by a crimson hood with gold trim, with a small gold tiara sitting on her brow.

Interesting wardrobe, he thought, he had always heard that Templars only existed to serve Thedas.

She scanned the streets of the merchant's guild with cold dissecting eyes, taking in everything, and giving nothing back. She had come up to renegotiate the lyrium contract with the merchant's guild; both the Templars and the mages needed the dust for their work. Typically, it was the priests' job to negotiate for the chantry, the Templars were meant to be their defenders, not their leaders…

…of course, things ran a little different here in fair Kirkwall, and the Iron Lady was right in the center of that.

Varric had heard all kinds of rumors about Meredith; some hinted that she might have been the lover of young Perrin Threnhold, back before he took power in Kirkwall. The rumor was that Threnhold had hanged old Knight-Commander Guylian on her orders, or at least to please her. She repaid that favor by crushing the Threnhold line. She took command of the Templars and made Kirkwall her own. Viscount Dumar might rule on paper, but everyone knew where the power truly lay in the City of Chains.

Neither the Viscount, nor Elthina, the Grand Cleric, had ever done anything to try to check Meredith's power; it was likely that no one ever would, given her history, and all the rumors.

Varric chuckled, looked at me, he thought, worried about Templar politics, that was not a healthy thing.

 _What did rumors about the Iron Lady matter to him?_

 _He was here to do business._

He did not know if any of the rumors were true, and frankly, he did **not** care. Varric kept his nose out of politics. He was just grateful that the woman was leaving; he had no desire for her or her pet Templars to spook Hawke, and send her running off in the other direction.

It was that moment that the door to the Tethras estate flew open. Bartrand emerged like a thundercloud, stomping his way across the cobblestones, both Moira and Bethany Hawke followed in his wake.

Varric smiled to himself.

Showtime.

IOI

"No," Bartrand hissed, "Andraste's tits, human, do you think I would let just anyone into his venture?"

Moira and Bethany looked at each other, the two apostates both wore worried looks, but they were both hardened enough from their year in Athenril's service that they did not let it show.

They both turned their attention back to the dwarf.

"But you are going into the deep roads," Bethany said, "You could use people with our…talents."

"No," Bartrand spat back, "There is no more room."

Moira smiled slightly, deciding to try a different tactic.

"Come on Bartrand," she said trying to sound jovial, "Let us buy you a drink and we can discuss what we can do for you."

The dwarf snorted like an angry boar, and turned to them, his cool blue eyes bore into Moira's.

In the old days, it would have been enough to cow her, but, thanks to Athenril's teachings, she had learned a bit about self-esteem.

She was not so easily intimidated anymore.

"Get in line, human," he growled, "Half of Kirkwall wants to be my friend right now. What we take on this expedition could set a person up for life."

"Exactly," Moira purred, "My sister and I have skills that can make sure you make it back with that take."

"Oh really," Bartrand said crossing his arms over his chest, "And just what might those skills be?"

Moira and Bethany looked at each other; it was not like they could start performing magic on the streets of Hightown at the height of the noon hour.

They might as well turn themselves over to the Templars if they did that.

Hawke blinked.

"We could arrange a private demonstration," Moira said.

Bartrand shook his head.

"Thought so," he said, "You're just another pair of Fereldans trying to work your way out of the slums. If you need to give a man a _private_ demonstration, you should probably take jobs at the Blooming Rose."

Both Hawke and Bethany blushed, but at the same time felt their tempers flare.

The dwarf thought they were trying to seduce him, he thought them _whores!_

Either might have struck out at the arrogant trader, but again, they were in the middle of a crowded street, in the middle of the day.

Any retribution would have to come later.

If Bartrand realized the danger he was in, he did not show it.

He snorted and walked away.

"Find yourselves another meal ticket," he spat.

IOI

Varric shook his head as he watched the exchange.

Again Bartrand had proven what a complete and utter ass he could be.

It was clear that he had **not** read Varric's reports. It was not like the Hawkes could just start casting spells in the middle of Hightown. They might as well stand outside the Gallows with huge signs saying: _We are both Apostates! Arrest us, please!_

Varric shook his head.

He made his way closer to the Hawkes, they were speaking quickly in hushed whispers, he could not hear what was said, but he could imagine.

The one with the longer hair, Beth…something he believed her name was, was scared. The older girl, the Hawke he had heard so much about was trying to calm her down.

Clearly it was not working.

He drew close enough to hear the end of what was being said.

"We have to do **something** ," the long haired one said, "We need coin, status, something to hide behind, as long as we are just refugees we're just waiting for someone to **sell us out!"**

"Calm down Bethany," the one with short hair said, "We have avoided the Templars so far…"

"For now," Bethany repeated, "But if someone turns us in, it won't matter, they will lock us up for the rest of our lives, if they don't kill us outright!"

Varric felt a slight surge of compassion for the younger girl.

 _He had never given it much thought, what it must have been like for a mage trying to stay out of the Templars shadow._

Poor kid, he thought, she seemed on the verge of panic.

He shook his head.

 _Real ray of sunshine that girl was._

It was at that moment that a young boy with red hair and ratty clothes bumped in the elder girl, he staggered and kept going.

The elder Hawke reached down and felt for her coin purse.

It was gone.

She spun around.

"HEY!"

The boy started to take off.

Varric was ready, and so was his beloved weapon, _Bianca._

He fired a bolt from his repeating crossbow. It just missed the boy's neck, pinning him to the wall by the collar of his dirty shirt.

The dwarf stepped out of the shadows closing down his weapon.

He smiled at the would-be thief.

"You know," he said, "I knew a guy once who could get everything in your pocket just by smiling at you."

He shook his head and held out his hand.

"You don't have the stuff to work Hightown, little man, much less the merchant's guild."

The boy put the coin purse into his left hand, with his right Varric slipped him two sovereigns.

The thief, Tobey his name was, worked scrubbing pots in _the Hanged Man_. He wasn't a bad lifter, but he really was a better scullion than a pick pocket.

Varric had offered him a sovereign to rob Hawke, all so the dwarf could make the proper entrance.

 _It was just good business_ , he knew, _make the **best** first impression you could._

He smiled at Tobey.

The second sovereign was for what was going to happen next.

"It is time to find yourself a new line of work," he murmured.

Then, he struck Tobey in the jaw.

The boy slumped but did not fall.

Varric leaned in to pull out the bolt from the wall.

"Sorry about that," he murmured.

Tobey chuckled, but covered it up with a cough and a groan.

"For **two** sovereigns," he murmured, "A sock in the mouth is **more** than worth it."

Varric chuckled and pulled out his bolt.

"Off you go," he purred.

Tobey limped away quickly, likely off to spend his small fortune, well, a small fortune for a Lowtown scullion.

Varric tossed Hawke back her coin purse. He walked up to the two girls grinning; he spun the bolt he had fired between his fingers.

"How do you do," he said with a slight bow, "Varric Tethras, at your service."


	7. Bounty Hunting

**Chapter 7: Bounty Hunting**

" _So,_ _ **that**_ _was how it began? The champion was your hireling."_

 _Varric snorted with amusement._

" _Maker's breath, no," he said shaking his head, "We had plenty of hirelings to go along on the expedition. When I brought Hawke into this I wasn't looking for another mouth to feed, I was looking for a_ _ **partner.**_ _"_

 _Cassandra gave him an arched look, clearly she still did not understand._

 _The dwarf did his best to illustrate._

" _Most people do not realize it Seeker, but it takes a lot to set up any trek into the deep roads. Fighters, excavators, scouts, not to mention all the gear to deal with every little problem you come across."_

 _Varric shook his head._

" _We had no shortage of those kinds of people, and if push came to shove, I wouldn't have put my life in the hands of any of them. Coin is not the best way to motivate people to keep you alive; you can always find another employer. It I was going to be going into the deep roads, I wanted someone along who had my back. Everything I had heard about Hawke up until that point suggested that she didn't turn her back on people. She wasn't the type to cut and run, the fact that she could throw fireballs from her fingertips was just icing on the cake. Plus, she had access to people who could move luxury goods. She had made more than a few contacts during the time with the smugglers, people who would not charge the fees that my brother's sellers would. I hoped that she might have been able to get me a better deal on my share than whoever it was Bartrand was working with. "_

 _Cassandra snorted; clearly the Seeker was not convinced._

" _Most dwarven merchants would not have been so quick to share profits, especially with a human."_

" _I'm not the average dwarven merchant," he said with a shrug, "I'd rather make it home with half of a large treasure haul, than not make it home at all because I wanted it all for myself and besides…"_

 _Varric grinned._

" _I knew bringing Hawke in would annoy Bartrand, at that time, the entertainment value of that was more than worth it."_

 _Cassandra's eyes narrowed._

" _You have to find your amusements where you can, Seeker," Varric smirked, "Annoying my brother was my favorite amusement, had been since we were children."_

 _The Seeker rolled her eyes._

" _What of the Champion's sister, was she interested in joining your expedition?"_

 _Varric's mouth twitched, it was not a grimace, but it was close._

" _Bethany was welcome to come if she wanted. I left that up to her and Hawke."_

 _Cassandra sighed._

" _I still get that feeling that you're not telling me everything," she said._

" _I feel it is necessary to set the context of what was happening back then," he said, "I find that motivations are almost important as the actions that caused them."_

 _The Seeker shook her head again._

" _Motivations do not interest me," she said, "It is the actions and the consequences that matter."_

 _Varric snorted at that._

" _Funny," he said, "I expected more coming from a member of an order that is lauded for its investigation skills."_

 _Cassandra glared at him._

" _Can we get back to what happened please?"_

" _Sure," Varric said with a shrug, "Where was I? Oh yes, I had just met Hawke and Bethany. It wasn't difficult to convince them to take a chance on me. They wanted the wealth that my brother's expedition could bring in. Coin buys a lot of protection, even from the Templars."_

 _Cassandra snorted again, but said nothing more._

 _Varric sneered at her._

 _He wondered if the sixteen year old girl who had faced a dragon flight in Val Royeaux twenty years ago would have been so dismissive about corruption in the Templar ranks. Would she have denied it, or would she have done something about it?_

 _He figured he would never know._

" _Bartrand had already dismissed one potential partner for his little venture. If Hawke was going to come on board, she needed at least fifty sovereigns, no mere pittance, but with my contacts and Hawkes…talents, I thought we could make it work."_

 _Cassandra gave him an arched look._

" _So you set about raising coin?"_

" _Yeah."_

" _How?"_

 _Varric sighed._

" _It was actually Bethany that came up with the first idea. Hawke's friend Aveline had managed to join the city guard. Sunshine thought that she might have a line on some profitable bounty work."_

" _So the Champion turned Bounty hunter?"_

 _Varric chuckled._

" _One of her many titles, Seeker," he chortled._

" _One of many."_

IOI

" **FOR THE KIRKWALL GUARD!"**

Moira watched as Aveline charged down the hill. Twenty bandits with an assortment of weapons looked up at her. A lone charging guardswoman, even with her shield up would have been easy prey for so many enemies.

Fortunately for Aveline, Hawke thought as she raised her staff.

She is not alone.

Fire and ice harried the bandits, scattering them. Moira and Bethany had learned much during their year of indentured servitude, they had always been talented mages, but now they knew how to best alternate their spells for maximum effect.

The outlaws did not know what was hitting them!

Hawke summoned ice to trip up those trying to charge Aveline. Bethany blasted those that had fallen prey to her sister's attack with fireballs. When Bethany cast a blast of freezing energy, Hawke would throw a fist of stone at the frozen thug. He shattered into a spray of red and frozen chucks of meat.

Their new companion Varric moved quickly, firing on the run. Hawke was not sure that she could trust the dwarven rogue, but it was clear that he knew how to use that crossbow of his.

He laughed as one of the thugs got too close to him, Varric jammed his weapon forward, and a long spring loaded spike shot out of the stock and impaled the man. As he fell down, Varric shot him with a bolt in the face.

"Bianca, baby," the dwarf cackled, "Introduce yourself."

Moira shook her head.

She knew that some warriors named their weapons, but the dwarf's fondness for the bow went beyond what someone usually felt for a mere tool.

She smirked.

Bet he even takes it to bed with him, she thought.

Hopefully he doesn't keep it loaded.

She looked down at Aveline; the guardswoman seemed to have the fight mostly in hand. The Hawkes and Varric had done a fairly good job of throwing the bandits they were attacking into disarray.

Aveline had discovered this little ambush a short time ago; she believed it had been set for a trade caravan. She could have brought this to her fellow guards, but recognized the fact that the Hawkes could use the money as freelancers now that they were no longer working for Athenril.

Could be worth a sovereign or two, Hawke thought, it won't get us to the fifty we need to pay Bartrand Tethras, but it is a start.

One of the thugs managed to get past Aveline; he tried to charge the hill that the Hawkes had set up shop on.

Bethany made sure he did not even make it into spitting range.

Lightning pulsed from her old Birchcore staff. The bandit shuddered as the blast coursed through his body. Moira ended his suffering from two quick bursts from her old whitewood.

Two arcane blasts sent the man's body tumbling back down the hill.

Moira shuddered slightly.

Back in Lothering, they had never needed to use their magic to fight, much less kill people. She knew that if the Templars ever discovered them they would likely have to fight. She had had no desire to simply walk off in chains with the chantry's enforcers.

She was grateful for all the time that Carver had kept the bastards at bay. Her little brother had always known exactly what to say to get the Templar to leave their home and go searching elsewhere.

Moira shook her head.

Carver.

She winced in pain.

It had been over a year, and she still missed him…terribly.

Bethany unleased another fireball on a pair of archers trying to flank Aveline. In the last year, Moira had noticed an extreme change in her sister's personality. Her little sister had been so optimistic, even when hiding from the Templars. In the last few months, however, she had come to have bouts of…depression, for lack of a better word. She had developed an almost fatalistic belief that they were running out of time that the Templars were closing in on them day by day.

Moira had tried to snap her out of such thinking, but Bethany remained convinced that they were living on borrowed time.

They had no place left to run.

Moira did not believe that, once they had the coin from this deep roads expedition, they would be able to start a **true** new life in Kirkwall. This morning mother and Uncle Gamlen had gotten into a bit of a tiff over their father's will. Gamlen had all but refused to tell mother what had been discovered when that document had been read.

Such hesitancy on his part had peaked Moira's curiosity.

She wanted to have a look at the will for herself.

She and Bethany both agreed; it might be just what they needed to help their mother. Leandra Hawke had been so melancholy this last year. She missed Carver, and could not shake the thought that her parents had died angry, that they had never forgiven her for marrying Father. That they had went to the flames believing that Moira and her sibling were mongrels, unworthy of the Amell family name. Gamlen had certainly done nothing to allay those fears. In fact, Moira found it harder and harder to believe that this was the same Uncle Gamlen that had helped keep their Mother's relationship with Father a secret.

Hawke's eyes narrowed.

Suddenly she saw Gamlen's face on the remaining bandits; anger flashed across her features, her eyes glowed with aqua-colored fire as she flung her hand out, open palm, before her.

A wave of force magic exploded from her outstretched fingers.

The blast passed harmlessly through Aveline, but sent the few remaining bandits flying.

Aveline rushed forward, while Bethany and Varric closed in.

Moira slumped to her knees, suddenly out of breath.

The young mage gasped, trying to regain her feet.

Maker, she thought panting.

 _Where had **that** come from?_

Varric and Aveline moved from bandit to bandit, finishing them off. It might have seemed cruel, but the Hawkes could leave no witnesses to what they had done here.

They were only safe as long as the Templars did not know that there were two apostates squatting in Gamlen Amell's hovel in Lowtown.

Aveline was bit more practical, these men had tried to attack a Kirkwall guard therefore they were bad, and deserving of their fate. Had they not intervened, these men would likely have murdered an innocent trade caravan.

That fact was enough to make sure that Aveline Vallen slept well at night.

Moira managed to regain her feet; she limped down to join the others. Bethany was already going through the pockets of one of the dead thieves, she emptied his coin purse, and eight silvers fell out, not much but better than nothing.

The younger Hawke sighed.

"These look like coterie men, don't they, sis?" she asked, "We fought enough of them over the last year to recognize one, didn't we?"

Moira took another look at the fallen "bandits." Bethany was right, their armor, their weapons; they did look a bit like coterie soldiers.

Varric kicked over one of the dead archers and removed one of his bolts.

"The coterie doesn't ambush caravans," he said thoughtfully, "They smuggle lyrium, weapons, and luxury goods. This kind of thing is a little beneath the coterie's notice."

Hawke frowned; she knew that Varric was right, but still…still…

She worried her lower lip with her teeth.

She did not like this.

They were missing something.

Aveline did not seem to mind that they were missing something. Bandits were dead, and the way was clear.

That was all that mattered to her, case close.

"They were a bit well-armed for bandits," she said more to herself than anyone else, "But dead is dead."

The guardswoman smiled.

"Back to the keep for your just reward."

Moira smiled slightly at that.

She did not really like using her magic to hurt people, but given their need…

She would be more than happy to claim the bounty money on these killers.

She would be more than happy.

IOI

A few hours later, she realized that she had been mistaken.

"I don't know how they do things where you come from guardswoman, but I set the patrols around here, not you."

Moira winced.

Aveline had been in her Captain's office almost five minutes and the man had not stopped yelling at her. He was furious that she had stepped out of her commission. The fact that they had done something good did not matter to him.

"Captain Jeven," she heard Aveline say through the closed door, "We were simply…"

"I do **not** care, guardswoman," he spat back, "I **don't** care that you were up for lieutenant in your first year. You do not make a move without my permission. Now get out of here before I have you and your Fereldan accomplices **jailed."**

The door flew open, Aveline exited like a child who had just been reprimanded by a disapproving parent. Jeven, a tough looking gray haired guard officer, pulled the door shut behind her.

Aveline paused next to Hawke; her fists were clenched so tight, it seemed that she might dent the metal of her gauntlets.

Hawke gave her a sheepish grin.

"Well, she said shyly, "that did not go as well as I hoped."

Aveline took a deep breath, and blew it out, with it went her anger, when she faced Hawke she actually seemed apologetic.

"I'm sorry Hawke," she said, "I don't understand, bandits are dead. Was it really such a bad thing that I was nosing around outside of my commission?"

Moira did not know how to respond.

"Maybe he is just trying to make sure guards who aren't as skilled as you don't walk into situations where they might get killed."

Aveline's brow furrowed.

"Maybe," she said, "But this is not the first time that Jeven has over-reacted when a guard has done something that he did not assign."

The guardswoman shook her head.

"I wonder," she murmured.

She glanced back at the captain's office.

"Threaten **my** friends," Aveline cooed dangerously.

"I'm not going to let that go Captain."

Aveline's posture was tense, like a tiger about to spring.

Hawke tried to lighten her mood.

"I suppose this is not a good time to discuss my bill with him?"

Aveline's eyes narrowed.

"He would jail you, Bethany too."

Moira winced at the mere thought of that.

"So much for getting a little reward for doing a favor for Kirkwall," she said.

Aveline's expression turned cold.

"I will see that you get paid back for this Hawke, I promise."

Moira smiled slightly.

Aveline was many things, not all of them nice, but she was true to her word.

Hawke respected that.

Aveline snorted.

"I've been taken off the rotation for a week," she said, "I guess I will have plenty of time to follow you around."

The guard gave her a hint of a smile.

"I don't suppose you have any jobs lined up?"

Hawke's eyes sparkled with mischief.

"Actually," she said, "There is something that you can help us with, it's for my mother."

Aveline's brow furrowed.

"What is it?"

"Up for a little breaking and entering?"

Aveline frowned.

"Hawke," she said her tone a warning.

Moira gave her a sheepish grin.

"Trust me, Aveline," she said.

"This is definitely worth your time."


	8. The Rivaini

**Chapter 8: The Rivaini**

" _So…the Champion_ _ **sought**_ _to become a noble?"_

 _Varric shook his head; once again Cassandra's words came out sounding like an accusation. Once again she sounded like Hawke had planned everything that had happened later…_

 _He sighed heavily._

 _She still was_ _ **not**_ _getting it._

" _No," he said, "Hawke was trying to save her mother from a crippling depression. Can't say I blame her really, Leandra Hawke was a kind woman…a true noble."_

 _He snorted at the word as soon as it came out of his mouth._

" _Nobility," he tossed the word out of his mouth like it was a piece of rotten fruit._

 _He shook his head again._

" _Never really believed the whole concept myself, "People can be noble, I've seen enough of that to know it is true, but nobility as a whole…_

 _He sighed heavily._

" _No, I don't believe in that at all."_

 _Cassandra gave him an arched look._

" _A surprising statement considering those you chose to do business with."_

 _Varric shrugged that off with a dismissive wave of his hand._

" _I go where the coin is Seeker; the so-called nobles are the ones with the coin. I've also seen how far those people are willing to go to get that coin, as long as it is out of sight of their peers of course. In the end, all they care about is status, that and some puffed up opinion of themselves."_

 _The dwarf frowned._

" _Just because some distant relative won a battle a hundred years ago doesn't make a person better than anyone else, or some ancestor living in Orzammar built a water clock does not mean that your beliefs are more right than some farmer who works his field day in and day out for years. Couple years back I knew this guy, he used to work out of the Hanged Man, a gang member, never had a good thing to say about anybody or anything. He was scum, and a racist to boot. I lost count of all the cruel things he said to the elves that dared enter the Hanged Man when he was there. That kind of behavior does not gain a person many friends; even his own people hated his ass. Then, one day, he is going down the streets of Lowtown, some cart gets away from some merchant and takes off down the street like some siege engine. I never heard what happened, something spooked the horses, and the merchant did not have time to grab hold of the reins. Anyway, there were these elven children playing in the street, the rest scattered, but this one little boy just stood there, frozen, and what should my eyes see? The same bastard I was telling you about runs into the street and pushes the kid out of the way, gets himself trampled for his trouble."_

 _Varric shook his head._

 _None of his boys even raised a finger to help him, not that I blame them much, so I went out into the street, for the sake of my curiosity more than anything else._

" _Why," I asked him, "Why did you do that?"_

 _He looks up at me, with pain in his eyes, actual concern to, if I was not mistaken._

" _Is…is the kid okay?" he asks._

 _I nodded, and then with a strange little smile on his face, the guy dies, right there, in my arms."_

 _Varric sighed._

"" _No one claimed his body after it happened, his gang had already moved on by that point. I, being the fool that I am, claimed the body, and paid for his burning."_

 _The dwarf leaned back in his chair._

" _It was the least I could do; he had saved an innocent kid's life that day. Such a noble act deserved something."_

 _Cassandra listened, not really saying anything. Varric did not call her on it._

 _He didn't expect her to._

" _How many nobles you know that would have done that? How many would have thrown away everything they had been in a single moment just to save one life, a life that may or not even matter in the end. That is the kind of nobility saw in Leandra Hawke; she had given up everything to be with those she loved. She kept her daughters grounded, when Kirkwall could have turned them into something ugly. She did…she didn't…"_

 _Varric coughed. He shook his head._

 _A very bad memory, he did not wish to drag it out into the light, not yet…_

 _He still had a ways yet to go._

" _I'm getting ahead of myself," he said, "sorry."_

 _The Seeker said nothing._

 _The dwarf took a deep breath and continued._

" _Hawke, Bethany, Aveline and I entered the old Amell Estate through a secret entrance in the Undercity. The old place had been overrun by Tevinter slavers, using as a base where they could negotiate their deals in semi-luxury. The Hawke sisters took great pleasure in clearing those bastards out. Aveline was equally enthusiastic, she had no love for such people, and when one of the mentioned that they had already paid the guard that month and that she shouldn't have been there, well. She made sure that not a single slaver made it out of that house alive."_

 _Varric sighed._

" _We fought our way up to the old Amell vault. The slavers had never managed to breach it, so we had no trouble at all finding Hawke's grandfather's will, not surprising it confirmed the suspicions the sisters had about their Uncle Gamlen."_

" _Leandra should have inherited everything, with Gamlen receiving only a monthly stipend. Hawke was furious when she first read it. She and Bethany dashed back to Gamlen's hovel, the will in hand…"_

 _Cassandra tilted her head slightly._

" _Did the Champion punish her Uncle?"_

 _Varric chuckled._

" _She just might have, had her mother not been there. Lady Leandra…she…she had always had a soft spot for her brother. From what Hawke told me later she was more disappointed than angry. Mostly, she was just grateful that her parents had forgiven her in the end that they had not died cursing her name."_

 _The Seeker frowned._

" _You would not expect that from most people."_

 _The dwarf grinned._

" _As I said, Lady Leandra was a true noble."_

 _Varric shook his head again, for a moment he was not there, not being interrogated, he was standing in a set of hidden rooms beneath one of the foundries in Lowtown…he…_

 _The dwarf blinked._

 _The past was the past, he thought._

 _Better that he just let it rest._

" _Hawke found a few sovereigns in the chest that held the will, it was not much, but it was more money than she had before. She stashed it away, and asked me to hit up my contacts, see if I could find her anymore good paying work."_

 _The Seeker crossed her arms over her chest._

" _I'm guessing that you did," she said flatly._

" _It wasn't that hard," he shrugged, "As I told Hawke back then, Kirkwall is crawling with work, if you know where to look."_

 _He smiled slightly._

" _A few nights after the business in the Amell estate, Hawke and her sister came to visit me in the Hanged Man. She bumped into someone who would come to play a big part in our lives over the next few years."_

" _And that would be?" Cassandra inquired._

 _Varric grinned._

" _A queen," he said, "Of sorts."_

IOI

Moira blinked as she stepped into the shadow filled room that made up the main floor of the Hanged Man.

The young mage's eyes narrowed as she let her eyes adjust to the change in light. Several of the Taverns less than savory clientele glanced up as she stood there. Most of the ruffians looked away, even if they did not know her by name, more than a few recognized her as one of Athenril's girls.

That reputation alone protected her someone from too eager prying eyes.

Bethany shifted slightly, moving just behind her sister. The younger Hawke was still not very comfortable entering a crowded tavern, a crowded anything really. Back on the farm, back in Lothering, it was rare that she would be around more than four people at once, and those were all people she knew by name, usually her family.

After their year of indenture servitude, Moira had hoped that her little sister would lose some of that shyness, after all, Athenril had had them move through worse places than this.

That is when she noticed the two off-duty Templars playing wicked grace in the corner. They were clearly off duty, and were most definitely off the hunt, but Bethany's fears about the Templars closing in on them were only reinforced by the soldiers' presence here.

Moira, for her part, did her best to ignore them, they were clearly deep in the cups, and unlikely to sense anything but the hangover they would likely have tomorrow.

She remained wary, but did not let their presence drive her off.

She had business with Varric.

She would not let two drunken Templars stop her.

The two made their way through the crowd, most people got out of their way. She spotted Lucky, a particularly nasty Lowtown thug, staring at Bethany, by the look in his booze soaked eyes. He had desires that had nothing to do with coin.

Bethany, so busy watching the two Templars did not notice, but that was okay…

Moira had.

She smiled at Lucky, a cruel ruthless smile, a predator's grin. She raised a hand, she did not summon any magic, she couldn't not with those Templars sitting in the corner, but she did not need to.

Lucky was well-informed enough to know who he was dealing with. He knew that Hawke had worked for Athenril, and likely knew at least rumors about what she could do.

Hawke willed the little prick to know what she was thinking.

 _Look at my little sister like that again, and I will burn off parts of you, parts that you_ _ **will**_ _miss._

Lucky, either too drunk to realize he was being threatened or wise enough not to push his luck returned his attention to his drink.

Hawke lowered her hand.

She let the matter drop with that.

Varric's apartment was at the top of the stairs. From his room the dwarf could look down on the main floor of the Hanged Man. It was a good vantage point, Hawke realized.

If anyone came looking to cause trouble for Varric, he would have plenty of advance warning, and a good piece of high ground he could defend with that crossbow of his.

She found Varric sitting at a small writing desk by the bed. She could not see what he was scribbling, trade reports, she suspected, he smiled and waved her and Bethany in.

Hawke plopped down at the large center table, but Bethany remained near the door, watching the two Templars, a worried expression on her face.

Varric glanced up; a slight frown creased his features. He rose and closed the door; he took Bethany by the hand and let her away from door.

"Have a seat, kid," he said, "You're safe here."

Bethany gave him a wan smile and obeyed. Varric pulled out a bottle of Orlesian wine, and three mugs, he poured a healthy dose for himself, and two fingers for the Hawke sisters.

Moira downed hers with single gulp, it was definitely better than the swill that Corff the bartender served downstairs.

Bethany took two careful sips. She had never really developed a head for wine. She claimed that she did not like dulling her wits, not with so many Templars around.

Varric did not take offense; he was nothing if not an understanding host.

Hawke waited for the dwarf to get down to business, which he would when he was certain his two guests were properly at ease.

"So," he said grinning, "Milady Sunshine, have you come up with some way to celebrate your newly found nobility?"

Bethany giggled and wiped her mouth. She smiled for the first time since noticing those Templars downstairs.

"A noble woman with no land and no title," she said, "Looking for work, probably."

He chuckled and gave a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Practicality is for peasants, Milady. You need something frivolous to celebrate your birthright."

She gave him a shy smile.

"Such as?"

The dwarf gave her a mischievous smile.

"Go up to the Hightown market and complain bitterly that they have no Orlesian silk that matches your eyes."

The younger Hawke gave the dwarf an arched look.

"And what if they do have silk that matches my eyes?"

"Claim that they are copying you, and demand royalties."

Varric downed his mug and quickly refilled it.

"A good noble always has a complaint ready, sunshine, remember that."

Bethany nodded, her mood lightened by the short conversation.

Moira smirked, she had enjoyed the show.

She hated the fact that she had had no power to rescue Bethany from the melancholy that had consumed her since they had left Athenril's employ. Carver had always known how to lighten his twin sister's mood. He came up with a little dance when they were children; it had always put a smile on his sister's face.

Moira's heart ached with the memory.

Carver.

She shook her head.

Would the pain of losing their brother ever go away?

Did she even want it to go away?

Bethany held out her mug, Varric refilled it dutifully.

"There you go, Milady," he said.

"Thank you kind, ser," she said doing a slight curtsey.

Hawke held back a chuckle.

She gave their new dwarven friend a silent thank you. They had only known him a few days, but he had already done much to earn their respect. Mother had cautioned them with getting involved with a dwarven merchant. Her experience as a noble in Kirkwall had not led her to be very trusting towards members of the merchant's guild.

Moira respected her mother's council, but chose to follow her own instincts; just because someone had a bit of a bad reputation that did not mean that they were rotten to the core.

She found herself thinking back to when she was small; maybe about four or five, it was right before the twins had been born. Her father had been working out of Highever then, sometimes, when Mother was meeting with the midwife, Malcolm Hawke would take his daughter with him when he did business.

Back then he had been dealing with a tall man in black armor. She could remember his name exactly, Keegan, Cougan, Negan, something like that, she did remember that he carried a huge maul, for a tiny girl, he looked like a giant.

Father had warned her to be on her best behavior.

She might have been young, but she remembered how all the adults had been afraid of him, especially when he smiled at them, the man had a cold smile. Even Father had been a little leery of him.

She remembered the first time he had seen her, the tiny dark haired child with the red mark across her face.

He had smiled at her, not the cruel smile he reserved for everyone else, but a tiny amused smile, one that did not make him look so scary.

He slipped her a sweet, yet raised his finger to his lips, requesting that she not tell anyone about this small act of kindness.

She never had.

Father had met the man four more times, and each time he had slipped her a goody of some type. The last was a small crystal wolf, she still had it. It was one of the few keepsakes that she had grabbed when they fled Lothering.

She still thought about that man, and the lesson that he had taught her.

Even the hardest people sometimes had a _little_ softness to their souls. You could not judge a book or a person by its cover.

She shook her head with amusement.

She found herself what had happened to that man, had he survived the Blight? Was he still around?

She found herself hoping that he was.

Varric briefed them on what his contacts had discovered. They were running down a few leads on good paying work. He'd been hearing rumors about a dwarf named Anso, but so far his contacts had not gotten back to him. He hoped to have better news soon, for now he had managed to scrounge up a bit of lost and found work. People in Kirkwall were always losing things, and they were willing to pay to get those things back.

The pay wasn't great, twenty to thirty silvers an item, but it was more than what they had started with, so Moira promised to look into it.

Varric went to the door and poked his head out, he informed the sisters that the Templars had left, perhaps they needed to return to duty. They rose from their chair and headed for the door.

They did not get very far.

Hawke's eyes narrowed as she saw Lucky and his boys surround a woman standing at the bar. Corff, the bartender was keeping his distance. Lucky and his boys might have been drunk, but they were also armed.

Usually, that was a recipe for disaster.

The woman at the bar either did not realize the trouble she was in, or was too drunk to care. She was like no one Hawke had seen before. Dark skinned, Rivaini blooded perhaps, and scantily dressed, just a chemise worn without cloak or jacket. A chemise that did nothing to hide the woman's generous form, full breasts and firm rounded bottom. Dirty leather boots covered her legs up to her thighs, and her neck was draped with gold and silver chains. Her raven hair was held up by a blue bandanna.

She stared casually into her drink, barely giving Lucky and his boys the time of day.

The ruffian was glaring at her.

He clearly did not like being ignored.

"You owe us Isabela," he spat coldly.

The woman, Isabela gave him a long sigh.

"Well Lucky," she said sounding bored, "Since the information you found out for me was worth less than nothing…"

She took a drink from her mug, and smiled.

"Well, that is what I will pay you."

She held up her cup for Corff to refill it, the bartender started to come over.

Lucky grabbed her arm and forced it down, the cup thunked hard against the table top.

Lucky was glaring down at her.

Still, Isabela did not resist, though she did frown slightly.

Hawke clenched her fists, wondering if she should intervene.

Lucky had not noticed her… yet.

He continued to glare at the dark skinned woman.

"My boys and I will get our money's worth, bitch!" he snarled.

It was then that Isabela turned to him, she smiled warmly.

"Oh," she said with mock-sympathy, "you poor sweet thing."

She leaned in, Lucky started to lower his head, perhaps expecting the Rivaini to kiss him, to offer him _physical_ payment for the debt.

Isabela had other ideas.

It took only a few moments, but what moments they were.

Before Hawke could even move, Isabela spun; she used the momentum to slam Lucky's head into the table top. He slumped to the ground.

One of his boys grabbed the Rivaini from behind, but she was clearly not done.

She threw back her head, smashing the man's nose. He released her, and she ducked, avoiding a broken bottle being swung by another of Lucky's henchmen.

She kneed the man in the groin, and elbowed him the jaw.

The bottle-man went down with barely a whimper.

She spun and slammed her fist in the jaw of the one with the broken nose. He staggered back, and she drove her foot hard into the man's kneecap.

He sank to the ground, howling in pain.

She caught another thug with a back spin kick, it tagged the man in the jaw, and sent him flipping to the ground, the Hanged Man's waitress, Norah, barely avoided being struck. She kneed the man in the groin; payment for not watching where he was falling.

Isabela spun; Lucky was starting to regain his feet.

She drew a pair of curved daggers from her belt, wicked looking things, gleaming like freshly polished steel.

She held one of the blades to Lucky's throat. He had barely had enough time to reach his sword, now he had a blade pointed at his throat.

He tried to back up, but the bar was right there, pinning him.

Isabela gave him a cold, yet triumphant smile.

Lucky swallowed hard; no doubt he could see his life starting to pass before his eyes.

Isabela smirked.

"Tell me, Lucky," she cooed softly, "Is this really, REALLY worth _dying_ for?"

She took a careful step back, Lucky slowly, carefully wound his way around her, his boys, hurt and sputtering rose as well. They limped after their leader as he slunk out of the Hanged Man.

Isabela sneered as she sheathed her blades, she held up her mug, and waggled it before Corff for a refill.

The bartender reached over and refilled it from a black dusty bottle behind the bar.

Isabela to a long hard pull, and chuckled to herself.

She waited, just in case Lucky was brave enough, or drunk enough to try something stupid.

He wasn't; neither he, nor his boys returned.

The Rivaini smiled to herself and returned to her seat.

"I didn't think so," she murmured.

Hawke stood there; it had been over in less than a minute!

She…she…

She blinked.

Oh Maker, she thought.

Then she remembered that Lucky had said something about payment.

Moira smiled, and though she was a little intimidated, mustered her courage.

She walked up to the Rivaini.

She was hoping to talk business.


	9. The First

**Chapter 9: The First**

" _Hawke helped Isabela deal with some…_ _ **problems**_ _that she was having, a gang of thugs were after her, once that was done. She joined our little party."_

 _The Seeker snorted at Varric's version of what had happened. She no doubt knew at least some of what had gone down. Bodies of mercenaries strung all over the chantry courtyard, and within it, several more mercenary thugs who had died on the main floor of the chantry itself._

 _The dwarf shook his head._

 _Not one of their more subtle jobs._

 _The Chantry, of course, had taken steps to cover all that up, not wishing to frighten the faithful. The city guard_ _ **was**_ _called in to investigate, but thanks to Aveline, the investigation into those deaths really didn't go anywhere._

 _Varric sighed._

 _Aveline had not really been happy with how that had all worked out. She did not like the fact that all that blood had been spilled on her watch. Hawke had asked her for backup, just to be sure that a duel ended fairly, and she had ended up having to cover up a brawl within the Kirkwall chantry itself._

 _Aveline did not like that kind of thing; she did not like it at all._

 _If it had not been for Hawke, Rivaini probably would have spent some time in the dungeon. As it was, Moira had stood up for the pirate. She had been both pleased and impressed that Isabela had freed a full shipload of innocent people bound for the slave markets of Tevinter, even at the risk of her own life._

 _Hawke might have been a mage, but that did not mean that she appreciated the works of the mage lords that most would consider her ancestors. Maybe it was because she had been an indentured servant, or maybe she just didn't like being lumped in with Tevinter. Whatever it was, Hawke had one setting when it came to slavery and slavers in general…_

 _She had a tendency to come down hard on both._

 _What Isabela had done, freeing those slaves, as far as Hawke was concerned, such a sacrifice bought someone a great deal of leniency._

 _Cassandra Pentaghast shook her head._

" _And so an infamous raider joined the Champion," she said coldly, "Not the kind of person most would put their faith in."_

 _Varric shrugged._

" _Rivaini wasn't all bad," he said, "Plus, she was handy with a blade, that never ceases to be useful if you spend any length of time in Lowtown."_

 _The Seeker chose not to comment on that, she simply shook her head._

 _Varric tried not to let her reaction get to him._

 _He knew what kind of woman Rivaini truly was. She might have been a little rough around the edges, but if you played straight with her, she would play straight with you_

 _He tried not to think about the last time he had spoken with Isabela. It had been right after that business with the Tevinters…_

 _He frowned slightly._

 _Rivaini had been so lost after that, questioning herself. He heard she had even left the raiders she had been working with._

 _He shook his head._

 _Where ever she was, he hoped she would find some closure. He was not a praying sort, but if he was, he hoped that she would remember that she was more than just a name, more than just raider scum._

 _Hawke had understood that too, maybe that was why the two of them had gotten along so well. Both had spent most of their lives on the opposite sides of the law, Hawke for her magic, Isabela for her lifestyle._

 _Cassandra pinned him with that probing look of hers again._

" _What of the rest of Hawke's companions? How did they figure into all of this?"_

 _Varric smiled slightly._

" _All in due time, Seeker," he promised, "We'll get to the others; after all, without the rest of our associates, Hawke may never have become the woman she needed to be."_

 _Cassandra frowned._

 _Things might have been better for all if they had," she said coolly._

 _Varric shrugged again._

 _The Seeker could say what she wanted, if it wasn't for Hawke…_

 _Kirkwall might not be the city it was today._

 _He leaned back in his chair and continued his tale._

" _I continued to work my contacts," he said, "Trying to drum up more work. Isabela spent much of her time at the bar of the Hanged Man, so it was not hard for Hawke to locate her when she needed an extra blade. One day Hawke comes to me for a favor, she needs to find a Dalish camp outside of Kirkwall."_

 _Cassandra gave him an arched look._

" _The witch's amulet," she said._

" _Yeah," Varric nodded, "It wasn't difficult to find the camp Hawke was looking for, travelers tend to give Dalish elves a wide birth. Most of them don't like outsiders, elven or not._

 _Varric smiled slightly._

" _One virtue that Hawke did possess, one that no one will doubt is that she always paid her debts._

" _Hmph," Cassandra said crossing her arms over her chest._

 _The dwarf's smile widened._

" _Trust me, Seeker," he said, "If Hawke figures she owes someone something she always fines a way to repay it._

 _He leaned back in his chair._

" _Always."_

IOI

The route up the foothills of Sundermount was not the easiest trail Hawke had ever walked. The ground was often jagged and uneven. The path on which they now walked seemed to have been carved out by some massive claw long ago. Many splintered rocks stuck up like swords as the young mage and her party made their way past.

She heard Bethany yelp, and turned quickly. Her little sister had stumbled but managed to catch herself. She shrugged, her expression meant to suggest that she was okay.

Behind them, Varric chuckled.

"Watch your step, Sunshine," he cooed, "Lot of loose stones up here, you wouldn't want to…WHOA!"

The dwarf's foot had hit a loose stone; he ended up on his hands and knees.

Bethany smiled at him.

"Watch your step, ser dwarf," she said almost parroting his almost arrogant tone, "Lot of loose stones up here."

Varric chuckled and regained his feet.

"I guess I deserved that, didn't I?"

Bethany giggled and continued on her way.

Aveline and Isabela walked in silence, the pirate choosing to keep Bethany and Varric between her and the guardswoman. Aveline was still a little pissed about covering up their role in the death of Hayder and his bodyguards.

Moira glanced at Aveline; the warrior had to know that that little meeting could only have ended in blood. Hayder had brought almost a full company of killers with him; you did not do that if you simply wanted to talk.

Isabela might have thrown the first blade during that scuffle, but considering how Hayder's men had attacked them on sight, fought them every step leading to the chantry, not even Aveline could doubt the man's willingness to spill blood.

No, Hawke thought, Hayder had gotten what he deserved. Now she needed to fulfil her promise to the Rivaini pirate she would help her find this relic that Hayder had been so willing to kill her over, the one for his master, this merchant lord, this Castillion.

Of course, first she needed to find the Dalish that they were looking for. She had given the witch her word, their lives for delivering her amulet to the Dalish Keeper, an elf call Marethari.

Once that was done, her debt to Flemeth would be paid in full.

The young mage shook her head.

She was not sure she wanted to know what the witch would do if she did not fulfill her end of the bargain…

She would rather not find out.

Hawke hated to admit it, but she had forgotten all about the amulet until yesterday. The flight from Ferelden, their weeks aboard ship, then her and Bethany's year of servitude, in the midst of all that, it was not surprising that the amulet had slipped her mind.

She had been digging through her pack, the one she had bought in Gwaren, she had stuffed the amulet in the bottom, not wishing for anyone to think it just some expensive bauble and steal it.

When she had found it she had went immediately to Varric, she had been confident that he would be able to find the Dalish clan the witch had mentioned, and as it turns out, she had been right.

Isabela looked at the desolate path before them, her golden eyes taking in the rocky slopes that led to the foot of the mountain.

The pirate chuckled.

"You take us to the most lovely places, Hawke," she said sarcastically, "We should really come out here more often.

Aveline glared at her.

"You did not have to come along," she said coldly.

The pirate smiled at her.

"You're no fun big girl, you know that?" she teased, "you could do with some time off, perhaps a night at the Blooming Rose, my treat."

Aveline glared at her.

"I don't visit brothels, whore," she growled.

Isabela smirked.

"Too bad," she said, "Having a good tumble once and a while might improve your personality."

"Shut up."

Hawke rolled her eyes and pressed on.

She did not mind the sniping back and forth between the two. The pirate might annoy Aveline, but at least she was not angry. Moira had seen he guardswoman angry. She got silent, and watched you, like a lioness ready to spring.

She had looked at Hawke that way once, after Wesley had died…

Hawke counted herself lucky that she had survived those days.

The group continued its way up the mountain, cool mountain breeze tussled Hawke's hair, a shiver ran down her spine that it had nothing to do with the cold.

Hawke blinked and looked at Bethany, her sister's expression was worried. She felt it too.

The fade was very thin here; even a low level mage could sense it.

Hawke pursed her lips.

Bad things…had happened here once.

They came upon a large outcropping of rocks, almost a wall, on the other side stood a circle of several strange looking wagons. The tops were crimson cloth, embroidered with strange flowing writing, or protective symbols. Moira could spell cook fires on the breeze, that and the scent of something that remaindered her of jasmine. Small slender figures, who were little more than shadows, moved through the camp, figures with long pointed ears.

Hawke paused.

They had found the Dalish.

IOI

Less than an hour later, they were moving through the camp, making their way towards a path that led up to the mountain top. All around them, the Dalish watched them with large expressive eyes, most of the elves expressions were guarded, bordering on hostile.

Hawke tried not to be offended, as a mage she was used to people being afraid of her.

It came with the territory.

Keeper Marethari had met with them with no complaint. The old elven leader had been expecting them it seemed. Moira recognized the woman as a fellow mage almost immediately, Marethari carried herself with a quiet power, yet she clearly did not need to make any flashy displays to prove it.

Moira sighed.

Father had been the same way. Next to him and Marethari she felt like a novice, she and Bethany had never been comfortable with their powers, always looking over their shoulders.

She shook her head.

It seemed that she would never be comfortable with herself or her magic. She could defend herself, and was comfortable in doing it, but all someone had to do was say the word Templar and she was disappearing into a crowd, trying to make herself as small as possible.

She tried to follow the example that Athenril had set for her. The smuggler had tried to help her build up not only her confidence, but her reputation as well. Yet, she was still struggling.

Moira pursed her lips.

How could she ever achieve the potential that her father saw in her?

How could she help Bethany, if she could not help herself?

She pushed those thoughts away, for now, she tried to remain focused on the job in hand.

The amulet, according to Marethari, needed to be taken to an old graveyard at the top of the mountain, and once there, been given a Dalish rite for the departed. To aid Hawke in this endeavor, the old Keeper had promised to send her First with them, a girl name Merrill.

Once they were finished, Merrill would be returning with them to Kirkwall.

Hawke worried her lip with her teeth.

she was still not sure what to make of that.

What was going on? Why would the Keeper send her First, her apprentice, away?

It did not make sense.

The higher they climbed, the weaker the veil felt, she would not be surprised if demons prowled these paths, and even if they did not, the weakness of the veil might invite other things to fall upon them. She had heard in Kirkwall that a battle had once taken place here, if any bodies remained, even as bones, there was a chance that they might encounter undead.

Hawke shivered.

She **hated** undead.

They turned a corner on their way up the path, before them sat a lone Dalish elf. The elf was hunched over, perhaps trying to start a fire, even from this distance Hawke could hear a strange humming, it reminded her a bit of the sound a glass makes when it is full of water and someone runs their finger over its rim.

A twig snapped as Bethany stepped on it, the elf jumped, and glanced over her shoulder, Hawke was not sure but she thought that elf might have shoved something into a pouch on her belt.

The girl rose and dusted herself off, and turned to face them.

"Oh, I dinnae here," she murmured.

She approached Hawke and companions.

Hawke took a deep breath, so far, with the exception of Marethari; the Dalish had been downright unwelcoming to the outsiders, especially the young ones.

She had no reason to think that this elf would be any more accommodating than her fellows.

Hawke gave the girl a cursory glance.

The first thing she noticed was that she was quite slender, even for an elf, her skin was pale and without blemish. Both her forehead and chin were covered with elven symbols just like the other Dalish she had seen. Her short black hair was pulled up, forming a nest of tiny braids.

Hawke waited as the elf approached, waiting for the 'shem'-hating to start.

The elf smiled at them.

"You must be the humans the keeper told me about," she cooed, "Anethera."

Hawke stood there dumbstruck, it was rude she knew, but she could not help it…

…A young Dalish…who was actually _nice_.

Merrill winced after a long and pregnant pause.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, "It isn't rude to introduce yuirself to a human is it?"

Hawke shook her head.

The elf seemed to relax a little.

"I'm Merrill," she said, "But you probably know that already, unless the keeper did not mention me, then…well…I'm Merrill, the First to the Sabrae clan, don't…don't mind my rambling, I do that when I get nervous you see. I've never been around humans before, the Hahren tells scary stories about them though…"

Hawke gave her an arched look.

Merrill's elven ears twitched, Hawke had come to recognize the gesture since Uncle Gamlen's hovel was so close to the Alienage. An elf's ears usually only did that when they were nervous or agitated.

"Of course, I'm sure none of those stories were about you, not that you are not important enough to deserve your own stories. I'm sure you are but…but…"

Hawke and the others continued to stare.

Merrill's ears drooped in surrender.

"I think I will just shut up, now," she said morosely.

Hawke shook her head. She was not sure what she had expected, but it certainly wasn't well…this.

Merrill looked up at them; it was the look one might get from a whipped and terrified puppy.

Hawke immediately felt like a bully.

She sighed.

She tried to focus on the job at hand.

At least Merrill was not some human hating zealot, if Marethari was right, they would need her to finish her deal with the witch.

After that was done, well…

…they would all see what came next.


	10. The Return

**Chapter 10: The Return**

" _I've learned two lessons living in Kirkwall, Seeker. The first is, that no matter how weird shit gets, it can always get weirder."_

 _Varric sighed as he lost himself in thought, he had not thought about that day on Sundermount, not for a very long time._

 _Sometimes, he wished that he could forget it completely._

 _The Seeker crossed her arms over her chest, waiting for him to continue._

" _And…the second?" she inquired._

 _He smiled._

" _The second was make sure that Hawke was close by when the weird shit went down," he said, shaking his head._

 _His smile faded._

" _I miss having her here; she always knew how to make things better."_

 _Cassandra sneered at that statement._

" _I've seen the state of Hightown Varric," she said._

" _I would not call what happened when the Champion was around…_ _ **better.**_ _"_

 _The dwarf shrugged dismissively._

" _Things got bad at the end, Hawke did her best."_

 _Again Cassandra snorted._

" _We shall see," she said._

 _The dwarf sighed heavily._

" _What happened on Sundermount that day that was the first time I learned the lessons I just spoke of. Sundermount is not the most pleasant place in the Free Marches, for a mage it is even worse."_

 _Varric shook his head._

" _Yet Hawke tried," he said, "She went up there to pay a debt, and she did the best she could."_

" _And unleased a force for chaos on Thedas," the Seeker said, "A player who we have no idea what her agenda is?"_

 _Varric shrugged._

" _That is Sundermount for you," he said._

" _Weird shit…that keeps getting_ _ **weirder**_ _."_

IOI

"Finish your business quickly human. We cannot be rid of this one too soon."

Moira watched as the two Dalish hunters made their way down the path. The hostility that they showed Merrill, one of their own kin, surprised her.

As for the Dalish first, she took the men's anger in stride. She stood rail straight and proud, despite what the two hunters said.

"I will save **our** clan," she shouted at them, "No matter what you think of me."

One of them gestured over his shoulder but said nothing more. Merrill curled her fingers around her staff.

Varric snorted as the two elves disappeared from sight.

"Hm," he said to himself, "I smell a story here."

Isabela shook her head; the pirate had only just met Merrill, but already seemed to be extremely affectionate towards her.

"What was that all about Kitten?" she asked.

Merrill's large green eyes narrowed.

"Ignorance," she spat, "But no matter what they think I must see this through."

The Dalish shook her head and gestured her staff.

"Come," she said, "The woman of many years is not known for her patience."

Hawke fell in alongside their guide. The slender elf seemed more than a little distracted.

That could be quite dangerous, considering what they had faced so far.

The Keeper had warned them about the things that prowled the mountain passes. Undead rose from the very ground where they walked. The spirits that slipped through here were not powerful enough to try and possess the living, but had no trouble claiming the corpses of the many unfortunate travelers had tried to make their way up to the summit of the mountain. The Hawkes used fire spells to keep the monsters away. Merrill responded with a bit of Dalish magic, summoning foul smelling roots to entangle the legs of the beasts and make them easy prey for Aveline and the two rogues.

As they neared their destination, it became necessary to take a detour, a rockslide had blocked the path to the graveyard they sought, fortunately, the Dalish had discovered a cave through the mountain, one that would bring them out not far from their destination.

As they reached the opening, Merrill paused, the Dalish woman's long elven ears drooped slightly; her shoulders sagged, as if she was trying to carry a heavy burden.

The young elf shook her head.

"Ye are really not seeing the Dalish at our best," she said, "We're good people, people that take care of our own."

"Oh the Dalish seem **very** welcoming," Moira said dryly, trying to lighten the mood, "I was thinking of inviting them all over for tea later."

Merrill turned, her brow furrowed.

"Oh they would never go for that," she said, "None of them would…"

She paused when she noticed the look on the others' faces.

The elf blushed slightly.

"Oh," she said, "Right. Sarcasm."

She coughed into her hand.

"Whatever."

Once again Moira found herself feeling like a bully. She did not know the full story of what was going on with Merrill, but it was clear that it was hurting her.

She wondered if she should apologize, not wishing to kick someone when they were down.

Isabela beat her to the punch.

"Ignore those fools," the pirate queen said, "If they can't see your value that is there problem."

Merrill smiled slightly, grateful for Isabela's support.

"One day, they will thank me for what I've done," she said, "Theron would have understood, at least I think he would."

Bethany tilted her head.

"Theron?" she asked.

Merrill sighed.

"My bond mate," she said, "He…he got sick…during the Blight. The Keeper said it was the darkspawn sickness, she could not cure it. Theron…he…he said he had to leave, he did not want his presence hurting the clan."

The elf's ears lowered.

"He may have **died** in the forest, we…I…I do not know" she said, "If he were here, now, he would not let our people suffer. He would have at least **tried** to do something."

"Would your mate have wanted you to leave your clan?" Hawke asked.

Merrill's brow furrowed.

"No," she said, "But I have no choice, I cannae stay, and If I dinnae go te Kirkwall I would be alone. A solitary elf is easy prey for anyone. In the city at least, maybe I can get lost in the crowd."

Hawke shook her head.

The poor girl, she thought.

Even Aveline looked like she was feeling sorry for her. The guardswoman knew something about losing one's lover to the Blight.

If anything, that knowledge would probably make the two women closer, considering what they both had lost.

Merrill raised her staff, the top of it flared to life with a soft green glow.

"This way," she said, "The graveyard is not far off now."

IOI

Hawke coughed as she once again stepped into the daylight, clothes were covered in dust and cobwebs.

The mage shook her head.

Spiders, she thought, first undead, and now…NOW. **Giant** spiders.

She sighed.

Maybe someone hates us.

The Hawkes knew a few things about giant spiders, there had been nests of the foul things not far from Lothering, usually they stuck to their caves, but a few times they had emerged to hunt for prey. Every so often, someone from Lothering would vanish; they would find something, a bag, or a weapon, always covered in spider web.

That is how you knew that the person was gone. When that happened all they could do was send out soldiers with fire to purge the nests, the spiders would come back, they always did, but reducing their number kept the people safe…

…For a while at least.

The rest of the group slowly emerged behind her. Merrill first, then Bethany and Isabela, the younger Hawke was supporting the pirate queen, Isabela had been stung in the thigh by one of the spiders, its venom had made her very woozy, easy prey. If not for Moira and Aveline, she might have been completely webbed up and been dragged off to be some spider's dinner now.

The Hawkes did what they could for Isabela's injuries, they pulled out the claw, and used healing magic to try and counter act the poison. It worked, mostly; Isabela was on her feet, even if she was moving a little more wobbly than usual.

The pirate queen giggled.

"Thisss sstuff isss great," she exclaimed with a greatly slurred voice.

"Sssomeone should bottle thisss, I feeeeel ssssweet!"

Bethany giggled.

"The euphoria of the venom will wear off shortly," she said, "You probably won't feel so great then."

Isabela pouted.

"Ssspoil sssport," she said, and giggled again.

Aveline and Varric emerged; the warrior was still trying to clean errant spider webs out of her hair.

She glared at Merrill.

"Some short cut," the guardswoman said with a frown.

"The main path was blocked," Merrill reminded her.

"This is the only way te reach the graveyard."

Moira looked up.

"Speaking of graveyards," she said gesturing in front of them.

The group turned.

Before them… stood their destination, they had reached the graveyard on the summit of Sundermount.

The old elven graveyard did not look like much, a few piles of stone standing here or there, scraps of cloth that might have been banners once daggled on long rusty poles. Great slabs of stone lay sunk deep into the ground, these might have marked the graves of the elven dead, but centuries of neglect had robbed the place of any grandeur it may have once possessed.

Merrill shook her head.

"In the days of Arlathan," she murmured, "The elders would come here to sleep."

She sighed heavily at the ruined sight before them, no doubt thinking of all that that had been lost since the fall of the elven civilization. Few people these days could imagine the thought of an elven kingdom; it had been centuries since the Exalted March defeated the elven kingdom in the Dales, and longer since the Tevinter Imperium had destroyed the first Elven civilization.

Merrill's elven ears drooped slightly.

"My people did not die you see, not in the traditional sense, they entered the endless dream, the Uthenera, and like so many things…even this was lost."

She shook her head again.

"The old ones no longer sleep peacefully here anymore."

Hawke took a step forward; the air shimmered like a heat mirage. She reached out with her magic, finding that someone had placed a magical barrier around their destination.

She frowned slightly and backed up.

She turned to Merrill.

"Any ideas?" she asked.

The Dalish swallowed hard, she wrung her hands slightly, as if trying to come to some difficult decision.

Finally, she nodded.

"I can open the way forward," she said, "One moment."

Moira stepped back, curious to how the Dalish girl would deal with the shield.

She expected her to raise her staff and whisper some ancient code phrase, surely the Dalish would have known the spells necessary to disarm such a shield, either that, or it would be keyed to recognize Merrill as elven and allow her to open a door way for the rest of them.

Merrill did not do that.

As they watched, the elf drew a long curved dagger from her belt, she brought it to her lips, whispering in a tongue that none of them understood, and then she raised her hand…

…and drew the dagger across her palm.

Hawke blinked in shock.

Merrill gasped with pain, but did not falter, she raised her wounded hand, gesturing even as her blood fell to the grass at her feet.

As she spoke, the blood turned to something akin to smoke, crimson smoke, glowing smoke.

Merrill pushed against the barrier with her bleeding hand, for a moment a shadow seemed to ripple against the shield spell, a shadow that seemed to be drawing in Merrill's blood.

There was a brief tearing sound, the air seemed to crackle, and then…it was done.

The shield fell.

Hawke stood there…dumbstruck!

That…that was…

Merrill took a deep breath, and pulled a small handkerchief from her belt, she used it to bind her hand.

She turned to the others, no one said anything, in that moment you could have heard a pin drop.

It was Bethany that broke the tension, her honey brown eyes narrowing.

"I…I felt the veil shift," she murmured.

She glared at their guide.

"You summoned something here! Are you **insane?!** "

Merrill winced under the accusation.

"Yes," she said, "I know it was blood magic, but I know what I'm doing. The spirit helped us dinnae it?"

Hawke's eyes narrowed.

"Demons are **very** helpful," she said trying to keep hysteria out of her voice. All her life her father had warned her of the dangers of blood magic. A mage caught practicing it was not taken to the circle; the Templars would kill any blood mage on sight. They would not suffer a Maleficarum to live.

And now, now, Moira thought.

I'm standing next to one.

"Of course then they burn out your mind, and turn what is left of your body into a monster!"

Merrill's eyes narrowed, her posture became more defensive.

"Well…yes," she admitted, "But that willnae happen te me. I know what I'm doing. I know how te defend myself."

Moira glanced at Bethany.

Both of them wondered just how many mages that had become abominations had thought that very same thing before the creatures they were playing with took them…

…Too many to be sure, Moira thought.

…Far too many.

Merrill took two steps into the graveyard when the bodies of the elven elders and more than a few grave robbers began to rise from the grass. Whether they had been summoned by Merrill's blood magic, or simply responding to intruders, Hawke could not say.

She raised her staff and started firing arcane bolts as the walking corpses, scattering a few, but attracting the attention of far more with her power.

The creatures rose in masse, snarling and reaching out for the mage with their boney hands.

At the far end of the graveyard stood an altar, the skeleton of a long dead elf lay slumped against its base, with the rise of the others, this corpse also began to stand, but unlike its fellows, as it came to its feet it began to change, shadows wrapped around the corpse, restoring the muscle and robes that it had worn in life. The face twisted, turning from a simple skull into something far more demonic. Glowing balls of flame filled its empty eyes sockets, when it had reached its full height, it gestured at Hawke and her advancing companions. Tendrils of entropic magic began to weave through the air, reaching like the tentacles of some great octopus.

Hawke shuddered. She had never seen such a creature before, but recognized it from one of her father's books.

The creature was an arcane horror, a demon mage!

Bethany raised her shield spell; it stopped some of the tendrils from advancing but not all. A few managed to weave their way through Bethany's magic. Aveline chopped at them with her sword even as Isabela, woozy or not, did her best to hold back the corpses that were trying to attack them with rusty swords, and ancient bows and arrows.

Varric fired on the arcane horror, the demon mage raised its hands, summoning a shield spell of its own. Moira charged sending crackling bolts of lightning flying at the monster's shield, the arcane horror's spells held, but Hawke could see the cracks starting to form in the shield, they were subtle, but they were there.

Hawke decided to force the issue.

The demon's magic shielded it from magical attacks, and it could use spells to shield itself from range, but how good would its defenses hold up when its enemy got up in its face?

She decided to find out.

In her head, the old Moira was screaming!

What are you doing?

Have you lost your mind?

You are no match for this thing!

She ignored those insecurities.

She attacked.

She brought her staff down on the arcane horror's wrist, snapping it, the demon floated back; throwing fel fire at her. She felt her skin wither under the assault but she did not back up, she did not dare.

If she gave the demon room, it might cover her in flame; it would use its foul magics to draw the life right out of her.

She would be left a withered corpse, just another body in this abandoned graveyard.

She would not allow that.

Moira's eyes narrowed.

She thought of Carver, her little brother lying broken in the fields outside of Lothering. If she stopped, or hesitated the horror might strike out at her allies. One of them might fall to this beast.

She could not allow that either.

Her eyes flared with blue flame. She swiped out with her hands, a lioness looking to claw a hated foe.

The magic in her blood responded.

Force magic tore the creature's chest. The demon shrieked!

It was a shriek cut short.

Three crossbow bolts found the arcane horror's chest, throat, and head.

The demon stumbled to the ground.

Hawke was on it like a predator.

She swung her staff like a war club.

She brought it down hard on the arcane horror's skull.

The demon's head caved in.

Shadows flowed out of the body, robes and muscle dissipated.

What was once an abandoned body was an abandoned body once again.

The arcane horror was dead.

Hawke took a long gulping breath of air.

Andraste's mercy, she thought.

What was I thinking?!

She summoned healing magics, letting them sooth the burns caused by the fel fire. She felt the burns flowing out of her like venom drawn out of a wound.

Hawke slumped to her knees, her heart pounded in her ears.

She was almost afraid to check on the others, afraid that she might see that they were not alright.

She forced herself to, and was rewarded.

She watched as Aveline cut down the last of the undead. All around them bodies burned, or were crushed by Merrill's strange magical roots and vines. Isabela leaned against a ruined tombstone, three corpses lay broken at her feet, even weakened by spider venom; the Rivaini pirate was a terror.

Bethany ran up to Moira.

"Sister," she gasped, "Sis! Are you okay?"

Moira nodded, her throat felt like a desert, but she would recover, food and rest would do much once they had made it out of here.

Merrill approached them.

"We should be save now," the Dalish said, "Place the amulet on the altar, and I'll begin the rite."

Moira staggered to her feet. She felt like she could sleep for days, but first, she needed to do this.

She still had a debt to pay.

She pulled the witch's amulet from her bag, and sat it on the altar.

She stepped back to join the others as Merrill stood on the spot that the arcane horror had risen from.

The Dalish raised her hands and spoke in the elven tongue.

Hawke did not know elvish, or what was being said, but she could feel the effect, the veil roiled under the magic that Merrill summoned. The amulet began to glow, and rock back and forth like a thing alive.

When Merrill finished, a beam of swirling light shot up from the altar. The beam swirled growing larger, the air split by what at first sounded like thunder, but changed into something else, and a sound that Hawke, Bethany, and Aveline had heard before.

It was the roar of a high dragon.

The beam grew and changed, to Hawke it seemed briefly like the outline of a dragon, but then it began to shrink, it grew smaller and brighter, and then brighter still.

Finally, it ended with one final flash, a light so bright that they all had to look away.

When it faded the amulet was gone, and in its place…

…stood the witch of the wilds.

Flemeth blinked and looked around, the witch stretched like a child waking from an afternoon nap.

She smiled at Hawke and her companions.

It was a smile that was both cruel and amused.

The witch laughed.

"Ah," she said, "And here we all are."

Merrill dropped to her knees before the witch.

Andran'atishan, Asha'belannar," she cooed.

The witch smirked as she looked down at her.

"One of the people, I see," she said, "Tell me child, do you know what I am, beyond that title?"

Merrill bowed lower, spreading out her arms in submission.

"I know…only a little," she admitted.

Flemeth chuckled.

"Then stand," she said gesturing for the elf to rise, "The people bend the knee far too quickly."

The witch turned to Hawke and her companions.

Her eyes twinkled with amusement.

"How pleasing to see that someone still knows how to keep their side of a bargain," she said, "I feared that my amulet would end up in some merchant's pocket."

Hawke shook her head.

"We made a deal," she said, "And besides, no one would buy it, probably because it had a witch inside it."

Flemeth smirked.

"Just a piece," she said slyly, "A small piece, but it was all I needed, a little insurance policy, should the inevitable occur."

The witch's smile turned cruel.

"And if I know my sweet little Morrigan," she said, "It already has."

Hawke blinked.

"Morrigan?" she said.

Flemeth grinned.

"My daughter," she confessed, "She is also a girl who thinks she knows better than I or anyone else, but then again…"

Flemeth cackled.

"I can't fault her for that; I raised her to be as she is. I can't expect anything else."

Bethany frowned.

"It sounds like you are not sure if she is simply your daughter or your enemy." The younger Hawke said.

Flemeth shrugged.

"Neither is she," the witch admitted.

Hawke blinked.

"Why go to all this trouble?" Hawke asked her, "If you wished to come to Kirkwall, why not simply travel with us?"

Flemeth laughed at that suggestion.

"What a trip that would have been," she exclaimed, "Me travelling like a common refugee!"

The witch shook her head.

"No child," she said, "No, I had an appointment to keep, and pawns to move before I did, and…I did **not** wish to be followed."

She practically beamed as she looked down on Moira.

"You smuggled me here quite nicely."

Isabela rolled her eyes.

"If this is going to turn into a fight," she said, "Why don't we just get to it."

The witch frowned at her.

"Your betters are talking," the witch said, "Be silent!"

The pirate's eyes narrowed.

"You don't know me," she hissed.

Flemeth shrugged.

"I know your type."

She turned her attention back to Hawke.

"I saved your life in the wilds," she said, "Now you have saved mine, and even trade, I think."

Moira's brow furrowed.

"You have plans I take it?"

"Destiny calls to us all, dear girl," Flemeth answered, "Thanks to you I am free to do what comes next."

The witch started to walk away, walking towards the abyss that the graveyard overlooked.

Bethany leaned in close to her sister.

"We are going to regret bringing her here," the younger Hawke whispered.

Flemeth paused.

She turned and glanced around the graveyard, for a moment she almost looked sad, sad, and very tired.

"Regret is something I know well," she said to Bethany, "Be careful that you do not let it poison your soul when it comes time for your regrets…remember me."

She smiled at the girl.

"Regret is dangerous, but love…can be equally so. Beware your heart little one, your passions might just set a world ablaze, and everything and everyone you care about will burn with it."

Bethany blinked.

"I…I don't…don't understand."

The witch cackled.

"You will, one day."

She turned to Merrill.

"Be careful child," she said to the Dalish, "You are never more blind, when your eyes are shut."

The Dalish bowed in thanks.

Ma serannas," she murmured.

Flemeth once again turned towards the cliff.

"One last thing before I go," she said, "Know that we stand on the precipice of change, the world fears the final plummet into the abyss."

The witch smiled grandly.

"Wait for that moment, and do not hesitate to leap."

She turned back to Hawke.

"Until you fall, you never know if you can fly."

Hawke gave her an arched look.

"Good advice," she said, "From a dragon."

"We all have our little challenges," the witch said with a shrug, "For now…know that you have my thanks…"

She turned away.

"And my sympathies."

Flemeth stepped off the cliff, her body glowing as she did so.

By the time Hawke reached the edge, a high dragon rose into the air, it circled the graveyard once, roaring in triumph, and then…like it had never been there…

…it was gone.


	11. Bait and Switch

**Chapter 11: Bait and Switch**

" _And so…the Champion gained the service of a blood mage."_

" _Yeah," Varric said, trying really hard not to sound defensive. The Seeker's interruptions and accusations were really starting to get to him._

 _Keep calm, he told himself, you knew going in that she was going to be a hostile audience._

 _He did what he always did at such times; he brushed it off, kept his expression bland for a moment, and then smiled._

" _Hawke reached out to her smuggler contacts, they had…a little bit of pull in the Alienage, got Daisy a room there, it wasn't much, but at least she would be around her own kind."_

 _Cassandra's eyes narrowed._

" _And what of the other mages of Kirkwall? Was the Champion trying to gain their attention at that time?"_

" _No," Varric said flatly, "If anything, Hawke was trying to avoid the attention of other mages. She recognized the fact that the moment she became known to the mages of Kirkwall, it would only be a matter of time until the Templars found out."_

 _The dwarf shook his head._

" _It wasn't like she was standing outside the Gallows waving a sign that she was an apostate looking for allies. Besides, things were only starting to go bad in the Gallows, or that is how it looked to us on the outside. Hawke was not about to risk her, or her sister's, necks by snooping around in Templar business._

" _No. Back then, Hawke's only concern was getting her family out of Lowtown, which meant that she needed to help get our deep roads venture off the ground, which, thanks to my dear brother, Bartrand, almost failed before we even got a chance to leave the city."_

 _Varric pursed his lips at the memory._

" _A day or two after we had come back from Sundermount, I learned that the guy who sold Bartrand the location of the entrance to the deep roads we were going to use, had fled the city. He had come highly recommended, but Bartrand had not done his homework, as usual, and did not know that the man had racked up a lot of gambling debts with the Carta. He had been selling false maps for months, not to pay off his debt, but to get just enough coin together to make a quick exit. Which he did before the Carta could get their hands on him."_

 _The dwarf sighed heavily._

" _As you can guess, our main investors did not like that, as soon as the news broke, the guy we had set up to sell the goods for us bailed out, leaving us with no entrance, and no way to move the goods even if we made it down and back. Bartrand threw a fit of course, screaming at anyone who had the bad fortune to be near him. I, having heard about this advance, stayed away from our family estate in the merchant's guild, not that I needed much incentive to stay away mind you. I preferred my place in the Hanged Man; it was a good working environment."_

 _The Seeker gave him an arched look._

" _What did the Champion do then?"_

" _What_ _ **could**_ _we do?" Varric shrugged, "We still needed to get the venture off the ground. I put my contacts to work on finding us a guy who could help us find another entrance into the deep roads, while Hawke hit up her contacts to try to find a new person to buy our treasures. The smugglers had a few high end contacts, so I was hopeful that we might find someone who would do what we need, and not ask too high a price for their services."_

 _Varric sighed at the memory._

 _It had been a scramble, he remembered that, everything that Bartrand had been working for had seemed to have gone tits up, and now he and Hawke had to swoop in and try to save it. While at the same time still try to earn enough coin to cover Hawke's side of the investment. Both had been slow going, and time was of the essence. They figured the bulk of the darkspawn were still clustered around the deep roads under Ferelden, but that would not last, they had needed to get going, and soon._

" _Hawke did what she could," Varric continued, "Since she had reached out to her old smuggler contacts to help Merrill, she figured she would reach out again, see if the smugglers had any work they needed doing, something they might not want to be linked to."_

" _Criminal work," Cassandra said crossing her arms over her chest._

" _High paying work," Varric reminded her, "with time running out, we could not afford to be choosey."_

 _He leaned back in his chair, again, it groaned slightly as he tried to get comfortable._

" _Hawke's contacts brought us a name, a dwarf named Anso; he had lost some goods and needed Hawke to recover them. We waited until dark, and headed out, Anso had pointed us to a hovel within the alienage. It was there that the smugglers he had been dealing with were waiting."_

" _The Champion was successful in this endeavor?" the Seeker asked._

 _Varric smirked at her._

" _Not exactly."_

IOI

"It's empty!"

Varric lowered _Bianca_ , and joined Hawke by the chest. On the floor around them, many of the smugglers lay dead, but if these were common smugglers Varric was an elven-born noble. The men had been too well armed to be smugglers, their armor was of fine make, their blades too, and if he was not wrong, he recognized the scent of soldier's bane in the air. A pricey type of poison, not the kind that a common smuggler would use, its main use was to knock someone out, make them easier to transport. That, along with the fact that the "Smugglers" had been set for an ambush when Hawke blasted their way in, hinted at the fact that someone might be trying to capture someone else.

But who? Anso? Varric did not think so, if someone was trying to send a message to the dwarf, they could have hired cheaper thugs, why all the high-end help?

It did not make sense.

He looked down into the chest; Hawke was right, it was as empty as a pauper's pockets.

The dwarf cursed under his breath.

 _Waste of bloody time!_

Aveline and Bethany stood behind them. Isabela had been sleeping off a hangover when they had left, and Merrill has stayed behind to attend to her. Aveline had not been very pleased to be a part of this job. She feared that someone in the guard would take notice of what she was doing in her off-duty hours, and bring it to Captain Jeven's attention. The man was apparently still angry with her for the ambush on the road business.

Aveline had no desire to be drummed out of the guard for illegal activities.

"So much for returning stolen goods," the warrior said grimly.

"Stolen, stolen goods," Bethany reminded her with an amused smile.

Aveline glared at the younger Hawke who fell silent.

Moira shook her head.

"Guess we go back to Anso and tell him that his property has been lost."

Varric shook his head. He could see the frustration on Hawke's face. It seemed that Bartrand's expedition would never get off the ground at this rate. It was as if they were running as fast as they could, but could find no traction, that they were simply skidding around on an icy road.

The dwarf smiled.

"Let's go back to Hanged Man, Hawke," he advised, "We will have a drink or two, and then go speak with Anso. No point in getting yelled at totally sober."

Moira sighed.

"Might as well," she said, "nothing for us here."

Hawke led them out of the hovel. Varric was already composing what he was going to say to Anso in his head. The man had seemed a little too jittery for this type of business; with luck he would take the loss, and not make a big stink about it. They…

The group froze.

The Alienage had been very quiet when they had entered, almost too quiet, like the elves living here had been scared of something.

Now…they knew why.

At least twenty heavily armed soldiers ringed the house. Though unmarked, their armor had the same cut and quality of the "smugglers" that they had just slain inside the house. Behind them, stood a mage in expensive foreign looking robes, fur trimmed, with shiny piping, lyrium maybe, or silver.

Hawke glanced around.

"Your friends are in there," Hawke said dryly, though a nervous laugh did escape her throat, "They might need your help."

The leader of the group, at least Varric assumed it was the leader, a woman with dark red hair glared at them.

"That is not the elf," she growled, "Who are you?"

"It doesn't matter," the mage in the back called out, "We were told to kill whoever entered the house."

Hawke had heard enough.

She gestured with her hand behind her back. had been since they had first seen they were surrounded.

Fire fell from the sky.

The soldiers, whoever they were scattered, the few unfortunates that had been caught up in Hawke's attack screamed and rolled around on the ground, trying to douse the flames.

Bethany raised her magical shield; it slid in front of her and Varric. Aveline lunged forward, with Moira at her side. It was a tactic the two women had used during their escape from the Blight apparently. Aveline played battleship to Hawke's support, spells and staff strikes kept Aveline's back clear while the guardswoman dealt with the bulk of the heavily armored enemies.

A stone the size of a person's head flew at Hawke. Bethany's staff spat lightning, shattering the projectile; before the enemy mage could recover she sent waves of fire and ice at their attacker.

Her strikes forced him to back pedal, to try and shield himself. It opened up things for Moira and Aveline.

Varric chuckled to himself.

Having one mage was useful, having two…that was great.

"Keep those shields up, Sunshine," Varric said taking careful aim with Bianca, "I got this."

"Hurry," Bethany said through gritted teeth, her brow was furrowed. She was sweating from exertion. She was stopping the enemy arrows, but it was taking a bit out of her.

Varric decided to lighten her burden. He sighted in on the enemy mage, the man was trading spells with Moira, his shield was holding, but it was starting to flicker.

Wait for it, Varric thought.

Wait.

Wait.

The man's shield dropped.

Varric grinned.

"Bianca, baby, introduce yourself."

He pulled the trigger.

A bolt from the crossbow caught the mage in the throat. He staggered, back, yanking it out, shortening his already brief time of life to about ten seconds, blood gushed from the wound.

The mage fell with barely a hiss.

No longer having to defend herself against the mage, Bethany switched to some offensive spells of her own. Lightning and fire joined her sister's attacks.

Aveline cut down the woman in charge, after that it was pretty much over.

The last two attackers tried to flee, Varric fired Bianca.

They fell to the cobbles of the Alienage.

After that…there was silence.

Varric lowered his weapon. He was still trying to figure out what was going on.

 _They had said they had been waiting for an elf, and ordered to kill any who entered the house?_

 _Which elf, and why?_

Moira sighed as she looked around at the carnage.

"Anso owes us a few answers," she said grimly.

"I agree," Aveline said, "Let's go have a…conversation with him."

Hawke nodded.

She did not think the dwarf would enjoy this…conversation.

They started to leave only to find their path blocked once again, this time by a man in armor similar to the others, but wearing a cloak, a leader…apparently.

Moira glared at him.

"How many of you guys are there?"

The leader sneered.

"I do not know who you are girl, but you have made a big mistake!"

"LIEUTENANT!" he shouted, "I want everyone in the square! NOW!"

Hawke lowered her staff into firing position, waiting the next attack.

It did not come.

A lone warrior staggered out of the shadows, blood leaking from underneath his helmet.

"Cap…Captain," he managed to gasp, and then fell forward, dead.

The leader of the attackers whirled.

A lone figure stepped out of the darkness. Varric blinked not sure what to make of it.

It was an elf, he supposed, but unlike any elf he had seen here in Kirkwall. The elf had broad shoulders, for one of his kind anyway. Black and gray armor covered him from heel to throat; his silver hair almost covered two intense green eyes that now bore into the leader of the attackers. The elf also had a great sword strapped to his back, but made no move to draw it.

He looked coldly at the captain of the soldiers.

"Your men are dead," the elf said coldly, "Your trap has failed; I suggest crawling back to your master, while you still can."

The elf tried to walk past the man, not even deeming him worthy to be looked at in the eye.

The Captain did not like that.

He grabbed the elf by the arm.

"You are going nowhere, SLAVE," he spat, "You are…"

The elf whirled around.

Varric would ask Hawke about what happened next later, she knew more about magic than he ever would, but even she could not truly explain what came next.

The elf's arms glowed, or rather the strange silver-colored tattoos on his arms glowed, he shoved the man's hand away, and then with his right hand…reached into the man's chest. The hand passed through the armor and flesh like it was air, the Captain's eyes widened in horror.

The elf was not done.

He closed his hand, or at least that was what Varric suspected that he had done, there was…a strange sound, like something hard being crushed.

The captain convulsed, blood sprayed from his mouth.

The elf drew back his hand, his arms ceased to glow, his hand became normal again.

The captain fell to the ground dead, his eyes reflecting a horror that few could imagine.

The elf shook his hand, as if trying to clean something unpleasant off of it. Varric saw no blood, but still…still…

Maker, he thought.

Weird shit gets **weirder!**

The elf snorted as he looked down at the dead man, only now deeming him worthy of his attention.

"I am **no** slave." He growled.

Hawke stood there, she was speechless.

Varric did not blame her.

The one they would come to know as Fenris; had that effect on people.


	12. Sisters

**Chapter 12: Sisters**

" _Ah, Fenris," Varric said with a chuckle, "Hawke did not know what to make of the elf when they first met. Maybe… she_ _ **never**_ _did."_

 _Cassandra frowned slightly._

" _I have heard some reports of the elf's…accomplishments; he served as a mercenary in Kirkwall for a time._

 _The Seeker shook her head._

" _I find myself surprised that such a man would be willing to work with mages, given the tales about his history."_

 _Varric shrugged._

" _Fenris was never fond of mages, that was true, but he was also honorable. He had put Hawke in danger with that business with Anso, and then again when she agreed to help him confront his master in Hightown."_

 _The dwarf shook his head._

" _The magister was long gone by the time we got there, but he left the mansion filled with hungry demons. We dealt with them, but still, the elf probably felt obligated to Hawke after that."_

 _Varric smirked._

" _Of course, that did not stop him from warning Aveline and I that we had a pair of vipers in our midst. Thing got a little heated between him and Hawke for a bit. He demanded to know what she was after, and she insisting that all she wanted was to help her family, to make a life for herself in Kirkwall."_

 _Varric leaned back in his chair._

" _At first, I think he might have thought that we, Aveline and I, needed to be protected against Hawke and Bethany, maybe_ _ **that**_ _was the reason he stayed. He certainly made sure that Hawke knew he was watching her, and Bethany too. Hawke never told him to leave though, even though he gave her plenty of reasons in that first year."_

 _The dwarf smirked._

" _It must have been the whole broody thing. I don't know what it is, but the ladies in Kirkwall seemed to really go for that. You should have seen the looks on some of the girl's faces as Fenris walked past them. I'm surprised that they all didn't try to have broody babies in his honor."_

 _Varric shook his head._

" _Whatever the reason, he stayed; he and Hawke finally came to an accord of sorts. She would not threaten innocents with her magic, and he would try not to glare at her, and call her mage all the time. After a while, they settled into a working relationship that served them both well. Fenris…well…in the end he…"_

 _The dwarf frowned._

" _Maybe he let down his guard," he said, "Maybe that is why things went like they did."_

 _Cassandra pursed her lips._

" _I must say that I find the way you describe Bethany Hawke is…confusing. It does not match what we have come to know of her."_

 _Varric's frown deepened._

" _People change, Seeker," he said._

 _He shook his head._

" _I'm not sure_ _ **when**_ _Bethany changed. When she stopped being our little Sunshine and became…well...what she became."_

 _She gave him an arched look._

" _Do you feel any regret," the Seeker asked, "For what came later? Did the champion feel any regret?"_

 _Varric glared at her._

" _You think that Hawke felt_ _ **nothing?**_ _" he demanded, "You think she wouldn't have blamed herself for what happened with her sister?"_

 _He shook his head again._

" _I don't expect you to believe this," he said, "But I hope you will at least know that had Hawke known what was coming. What was going to happen with Sunshine, she would have done something, said something. She would have at least tried to stop that particular cart before it fell off the road."_

 _Cassandra said nothing._

 _Varric glared at her._

 _She did not understand, he recognized that, but that was okay, he supposed._

 _People like her never did._

 _He sighed heavily._

" _We can't change the past, Seeker," he said morosely, "No matter how much we want to."_

 _Cassandra's lip twitched slightly, perhaps considering what he had said, perhaps not._

" _Continue," she said, "Hawke had just recruited the elf Fenris into her ranks, what happened then."_

 _Varric sighed._

" _The elf chose to remain in Hightown, he thought that his master might come back, try to reclaim him, or rather the markings the magister had burned into his skin. He had decided that he wasn't going to run anymore. Hawke, given her feelings about slavery, and slavers in general, offered to help him when the time came."_

" _Interesting," the Seeker said, "First the pirate, then the elf, Hawke seemed to be eager to help her associates."_

 _Varric chuckled._

" _Hawke called them 'friends,' Seeker, or at least they turned into friends, eventually."_

 _He sighed again._

" _Meanwhile, we still had a lot of work to do, as I said, the expedition was on the verge of collapse. We still needed a decent entrance, and someone to move whatever goods we found. Having neither, the people that had invested in Bartrand were starting to get nervous; worried that he would not be able to pay for their services. It all almost went tits up right there."_

" _Hawke continued to try to find good paying work, the girl turned into a bit of a blood hound, willing to go anywhere to find coin."_

 _He smiled._

" _One such search brought her back to the chantry in Hightown. She had gotten into the habit of checking the chanter's board, something she had done back when she still lived in Lothering, most of the jobs there weren't all that well paying, but one day…we did manage to find certain…opportunities."_

 _Cassandra gave him an arched look._

" _What type of opportunities?_

 _The dwarf chuckled._

" _You never know who you are going to meet when you are on your way to the chantry."_

IOI

"I think we are being followed."

Moira's eyes narrowed slightly. She had been aware of Fenris' presence since they had passed through the market place. Since his decision to remain in the city, she had often noticed his presence trailing behind them, usually when they were just doing errands for their mother, or to help raise coin for the expedition.

Hawke frowned.

She knew she was going to have to have a talk with Fenris at some point. She doubted that she would be able to convince him that she was not threat to the people of Kirkwall. All she wanted right now was to get her family out of Uncle Gamlen's hovel and into a place of their own. If it was their family estate in Hightown, so be it, if it was somewhere else, so be it.

Anywhere was better than where they were now.

Bethany shook her head, once again her little sister was drifting towards the morose attitude that only seemed to get worse the longer they were here. Kirkwall did not seem to agree with Bethany. Fear of discovery by the Templars had only made it worse.

She glanced back, Fenris, hooded and cloaked stood near one of the many armorers that sold their goods in the market place.

The younger Hawke sighed.

"I can't decide if we have gained the help of an elf or a Templar," she murmured.

Hawke chuckled.

"I don't think they let you into the order with ears like that," she quipped.

Bethany glared at her.

Hawke fell silent.

When Bethany was not obsessing over the Templars, she was often glaring at her older sister, clearly not amused by her attempts to lighten the mood. Gone were the days when Bethany had been the sweet-natured, dutiful sister, in her place, was someone that Moira barely recognized. She had turned into someone who could be moody, sullen, and icy.

Hawke was at a loss to explain it.

She kept their problems to herself, mostly, until one night in the Hanged Man; Isabela had observed some of what was happening between the two sisters. Moira had been trying to lighten the mood, when Bethany had just stormed off; going up to Varric's rather than remain sitting with her sibling.

The pirate had noticed the worried look on the elder Hawke's face. She had done her best sooth her.

"Bethany could not stay a good little girl forever, Hawke," Isabela reminded her, "She is a nineteen year old in a big city, she is going to lash out every once and a while, try to find her own path."

Moira tried to remember that. Bethany was her own woman; Hawke never wanted her to be anything more. She understood that she could not protect her little sister forever, sooner or later, Bethany would branch out and make her own way in the world.

Hawke just wanted to be sure that she knew that it was okay.

That she was not alone, if she needed her big sister's helped, then big sister would be there.

The Hawke sisters made their way out of the market. Moira wanted to check the chanter's board, and Bethany had wanted to go to the chantry for a while now, the Kirkwallers had put up a wall of remembrance for the victims of the Blight.

Bethany wanted to light a candle for Carver. Their name day was coming up and she did not want to forget him.

Hawke glanced around at the estates and pillars of white marble and gray stone that made up Hightown. She had grown up hearing stories about this place. Mother had wanted to make sure that her little girl knew where she came from, that she knew of the grandness of the Amell line. As a child on her mother's knee she had heard all about this place, the lavish estates, the grandness of the chantry, the markets filled with goods from all corners of the Free Marches and beyond.

Moira shook her head.

She hated this place.

Maybe it was the Ferelden in her, but she was never comfortable when she came up here. Malcolm Hawke had given his family a good life, a life with love and simplicity. Hightown just seemed…too much for Moira.

She found herself wondering what kind of life she would have if they managed to reclaim the family estate. All the sneering nobles, what would they say about the Apostate farmer's daughter who now lived among them. How would she be able to adapt to this world? She was far from some nobleman's daughter.

She glanced over at her sister. Bethany kept her head down, but her eyes followed the various nobles flitting around them as they passed by.

Hawke smiled slightly.

Bethany would have no trouble adapting to the life of a noble woman.

She could hear it in her little sister's voice. Bethany was excited about reclaiming their birthright. She would be perfectly comfortable sashaying around Hightown in an Orlesian silk dress with lace petticoats. When they did talk, Bethany would speak of what came next, after the deep roads expedition like it was some rosy new world.

They youngest Hawke seemed more than ready to get there.

A pair of noble man passed by them, Moira did not need magic to feel their eyes on their retreating forms. Bethany glanced up to find one of the boys still watching her. She ducked her head, blushing furiously.

Moira smiled.

"Well," she said, "At least we know you will not have any shortage of suitors when we get back from the expedition."

Her sister's blush deepened.

"It…it wasn't just me they were looking at, sis," Bethany reminded her, "You are here too, remember."

Hawke snorted.

"I think we both know that no man is going to be interested in me," she said.

She gestured to the red mark across her face.

"This is not the kind of face that a man dreams longingly about."

Bethany sighed.

"That mark is not _unattractive_ , sister," she said, "You've always made more of it than what it actually is."

Moira shook her head.

Her little sister sighed again.

"Once we have the estate, we are probably going to have to start thinking about men. It will be expected of us, won't it? After all, mother would not want us to turn into a pair of old maids, now would she?"

The question surprised Moira.

She and Bethany had rarely talked about boys back in Lothering; neither had had the opportunity to get comfortable talking to young men, much less spending any time with them. The Hawke sisters were not the most sociable young people in Lothering, to say that their magic made courting… _difficult_ was a bit of an understatement. The Hawkes had lived fairly sheltered lives. Carver would go to the tavern, and Bethany to the Chantry once and a while, but beyond that, that was it.

Moira, being Moira, had stayed home, and tried to keep everything running, after father passed it had not been an easy challenge.

Lothering might have been a cross roads, but it was rare that the Hawke sisters had seen anyone that they could say…was interesting. There were farm boys of course, but most of them knew Carver, and he would likely have kicked their asses if they even looked at his sisters. The travelers that passed by never stayed long enough to really notice the two sisters.

If there was an eligible bachelor among them, Moira and Bethany had never seen him.

The sad fact was, Moira thought, had the Blight not come she and Bethany might have ended up as old maids tending the family farm.

She knew that their mother did not want that, Leandra Hawke still had hope that she would have an ample number of grandchildren to mercilessly spoil one day.

At the way things were going, Moira did not see that happening anytime soon.

She chuckled at the mere thought of it, the chances of her starting a family seemed ridiculous and out of reach.

Of course, she did not tell Bethany that, she had no desire to upset her little sister.

"It certainly wouldn't be hard to find a husband in this place," she said, "The selection is definitely more bountiful than it was in Lothering."

Bethany giggled.

"Of course," Hawke added, "We'll also have to find men who will accept us for who we are. I don't know about you, but I'm not looking for a husband who will go running to the Templars as soon as he realizes that his wife can make fire with only her fingertips."

Bethany's cheer all but vanished, that worried look that Moira had come to know all too well returned.

The mage cursed under her breath.

Damn it!

She had been trying to lighten the mood, but her comment had come out more mean spirited than she had intended, now…Bethany was retreating from her, again.

Moira shook her head.

She wished that Carver was still here. He could always end Bethany's melancholy.

Moira Hawke only seemed to add to it these days.

The Hawkes fell silent as they entered the chantry courtyard. In this place, it was not wise for them to speak freely, lest one of the faithful over hear them and report them both to the Templars.

Moira made her way to the chanter's board, surprised to discover a bit of an argument taking place before it. A handsome young man in white matte armor was pinning a request to the board, an elder priestess was trying to stop him, Moira could not hear what was being said, but it was clear that this was no minor disagreement.

"You know chantry law," the priestess told the young man, "The chantry will not condone this."

The man frowned.

"It is my duty," he growled, "It is my right! I will show these assassins that there is nowhere in the Free Marches for them te hide!"

He strode away from the board, the priestess ripped it down.

"This. Is. Murder." She said shaking the parchment in the air.

The man drew his bow and whirled.

He fired a single arrow, it tore the parchment from the priestess' grip, and pinned it back to the board.

Moira and Bethany both stood their frozen, their eyes wide.

Merciful Maker!

The man lowered his bow, his eyes filled with righteous fury."

No," he growled, "What happened to my family, that was murder!"

He spun on his heel and left the chantry courtyard.

The priest shook her head and retreated.

Moira approached the board; she pulled off the parchment, her brow furrowed as she read it.

 _Interesting._

The parchment read:

 _The rightful prince of Starkhaven seeks the aid of those both brave, and interested in justice._

 _A princely sum is offered to any just person who will aid in bringing justice to the Flint Mercenary Company, for the murder of the ruling Vael family of Starkhaven._

 _Andraste's justice be done._

Hawke and Bethany looked at each other.

The younger Hawke smiled.

"A prince needs help," she said.

Moira chuckled.

"We could definitely use the… _princely sum_ that is being offered."

It was at that moment that Fenris entered the courtyard; his appearance caused several of the sisters to twitter nervously.

"Found something?" he inquired.

Hawke turned and glared at him.

"You don't have to watch us like were some dangerous animals you know."

The elf snorted.

"What you are remains to be seen, Hawke."

Moira pursed her lips.

"We should go to Aveline," Bethany suggested, "Perhaps her contacts will know where to find these Flint Company people."

Moira considered that.

It was certainly worth a look, and if Aveline knew nothing, perhaps Varric could help them.

She looked at their elven companion.

"Up for a little hunting Fenris? The prince of Starkhaven has a job for a group of 'just people.'

Bethany smirked at her sister.

"We're just?" she quipped.

Hawke gave her a playful nudge in the ribs.

"We're more just than most people in Hightown."

Fenris snorted at that.

Hawke gave him an irritated look.

"Let me guess," She said, "That remains to be seen," she said in her best Fenris-style voice.

The elf said nothing.

Hawke rolled her eyes.

She swore on Andraste's knickers, she would make the elf laugh someday, or barring that, at least prompt the ghost of a smile.

She folded up the parchment and put it into her pack.

"Let's go find Aveline," she said.

"We have work to do."


	13. A New Captain

**Chapter 13: A New Captain**

" _As it turns out, Aveline_ _ **did**_ _know something about the Flint Mercenary Company, their success in Starkhaven had given the group the boost in reputation they needed to become more powerful, or at least they_ _ **thought**_ _it had."_

 _The dwarf shook his head._

" _Stupid shits," he grumbled, "If they had had any brains they would have left the Free Marches entirely, gone to Ferelden, Nevarra, or Orlais, somewhere far beyond the reach of any Vael allies."_

 _Varric snorted._

" _Even if Choir boy hadn't posted that note to the chanter's board, there were likely half a dozen people in Hightown and the Merchant's Guild whose pockets had gotten lighter with the death of the prince and his family. Any one of them might have sought revenge for the shake-up in Starkhaven…"_

" _But none of them did," Cassandra interrupted him, "And those men became prey for the champion."_

 _Varric chuckled._

" _I'll have to remember that line, Seeker," he said, "Very dramatic; it will fit will into my next telling of this tale."_

 _The Seeker's eyes narrowed._

" _If there_ _ **is**_ _another telling," she said, once again with the unspoken threat._

 _Varric swallowed hard._

 _Best not to get too comfortable, he thought._

 _He was still in danger here._

 _He took a deep breath, and continued._

" _It was rare that Aveline asked anything of Hawke, she was not the tit for tat type, but when we showed up at the keep she did need something, something she realized she could not do alone._

 _The dwarf sighed._

" _Aveline had not forgotten that business with the ambush, it had been eating away at her for a while. She had been conducting her own investigation into Captain Jeven and his associates."_

 _Varric snorted with amusement._

" _Most people would have said nothing, accepted that things were, the way they were. Aveline was not like that. What was it Rivaini called her? Oh yeah, she called her a woman shaped battering ram."_

 _The memory made him smirk._

" _I take it your friend discovered something?" the Seeker asked._

" _You could say that," Varric nodded, "It led to something of course, the way such things often do..."_

 _The dwarf's smile widened._

"… _A changing of the guard."_

IOI

"I first heard about this from Guardswoman Brennan," Aveline said, "After that, I knew I could no longer sit on my hands."

They all sat around in an empty bunkroom in the keep, the Hawke sisters and Fenris. The guards that Aveline boarded with were all out on duty, and their relief would not arrive for another hour. Aveline herself was off for the night.

That gave the guardswoman plenty of time to explain what she had found out.

Moira frowned, Aveline was almost bouncing with nervous excitement, it was rare that she let herself get excited about such things, but Hawke had come to recognize when she was."

"So what did you find out?" the mage asked, "Any dirty little secrets that might prove profitable."

Aveline frowned.

"I'm trying to **stop** corruption, Hawke," the guardswoman reminded her, "Not get caught up in."

Moira smiled then, that little smile so that Aveline knew she was only teasing.

"One day you will be frustrated enough to go for it," Moira quipped.

Aveline snorted and continued.

"The ambush we dealt with, Brennan was supposed to take that route later that very evening. Had we not intervened, she would likely not have survived.

"She would have been alone?" Bethany asked.

Aveline nodded.

"A lone guard is not much of a patrol," Moira reminded her.

"It should not have needed to be," the guardswoman said, "According to Brennan, that path was supposed to have been clear for weeks."

Aveline sighed.

"If that was all it was, than I probably would not have been so worried, but Brennan was set to carry the satchel that night. That fact alone was enough to make me suspicious."

Fenris' ears twitched.

"Satchel," he growled, "What kind of satchel?"

"It contains missives for the outlying guard units, the ones stationed either outside the city or on duty patrolling the roads."

Aveline shook her head.

"According to Brennan the satchel had been heavier than usual that night. Normally it is only just an updated copy of the roster, a change in patrol routes, that sort of thing."

"Yet it was heavier the night that your fellow guard was supposed to travel along the road that we encountered that ambush?" Hawke pursed her lips as she considered what her friend had just told her.

"Did this other guard look in the satchel?"

"No," Aveline said, "The satchel's contents are for the patrol commander's eyes only. No guard would look at it, it is simply not done."

"I take it that your guard friend never got to take this satchel with her?" Hawke asked.

"Jeven canceled the drop the moment he heard about our business with the ambush, he decided it would be better to try again later, along a safer route."

Hawke rolled her eyes.

"Well, that does not sound suspicious at all, does it?"

Aveline's eyes narrowed.

"I will help you find your mercenary band, Hawke, but I need your help making sure that this is not what I think it is."

She shook her head.

"I know that the captain can be an ass, but I still need proof that there is more going on here. I won't make accusations until I'm sure that I'm right."

"You could ask the captain about this," Bethany suggested.

"You could," Hawke agreed, "I'm sure that there is a perfectly good and reasonable lie why the guard captain chose to send a lone guard into an ambush."

Aveline's expression turned cold.

"Normally, I would ask," she said, "But that would take time, and time is of the essence. I won't stand around twiddling my thumbs while a guard might be walking into danger."

Hawke gave her old ally a warm smile.

"You don't have to sell me on this Aveline," she said, "I'm more than willing to help.

The guardswoman smiled.

"I knew that I could count on you Hawke," she said beaming.

"You are a true friend."

Moira's smile dropped slightly.

"Just be aware that we are taking a risk," she said, "This is your superior after all."

Aveline's mouth became a grim line.

"A good captain would want to know when one of the guards was in danger, and if he is not a good captain, then I need to know."

Aveline rose from her chair and went over to where the roster was posted on the wall.

"Brennan said that the satchel had been passed to Guardsman Donnic, tonight. He is a good man."

Aveline murmured the man's name as she checked the roster; finally, she stopped and smiled.

"There we are," she said, "A night walk in Lowtown."

She turned to Hawke and her allies.

"Let's go make sure that Donnic's quiet trip stays quiet."

IOI

A few hours later, Hawke realized that Aveline had been right to be concerned about Guardsman Donnic.

Before starting out, they went back to the Hanged Man and picked up Varric, Merrill, and Isabela. The Guardsman's patrol was not set to pass through Lowtown until shortly after midnight. That gave them plenty of time to get ready.

Moira had chosen to stay close to Aveline; the two remained in the shadows, waiting for Guardsman Donnic to pass. When he did not the guardswoman got nervous and struck out on her own.

Hawke was forced to run and catch up with her.

Aveline was lost in a cold fury.

"We're not losing a guard over this," she growled under her breath, "Not if I can help it.

The two women traced back what would have been the guardsman's route. Hawke hoped that they would bump into the guard, and everything would be well.

That is not what happened.

The two of them walked into a full-fledged ambush.

Aveline's fellow guard lay wounded in a nearby alley, not dead yet, but it was clear that his attackers were about to rectify that problem.

Aveline snarled and charged right into the middle of it.

Hawke cursed under her breath and threw fire at the closest thugs.

The mage cursed under her breath.

Damn it, Aveline, she thought.

Wait for the others.

Hawke did not have time to think too much about the fact that they were more than a little outnumbered. She found herself under attack before she even had a chance to catch her breath. She twirled her staff defensively, trying to buy herself enough time to set off a mind blast spell, it would give her a chance to catch her breath and cast something really useful.

She noticed a shadow coming up behind her; she whirled around, but was not fast enough.

A long assassin's knife sliced down her upper arm. She gasped and struck out with her leg, the attacker's armor protected him from the strike, but it did force him to take a step back.

He lunged again, ready to plunge the knife into the mage's chest.

Her eyes widened, she tried to back pedal, but tripped.

The killer moved in for the kill.

He did not get the chance.

A glowing fist plunged through the man's back; he sputtered blood as the glowing fist crushed his heart. A second later, a defensive shield shimmered to life around her.

Hawke sighed with relief.

The others had arrived.

Isabela rushed right into the thick of the fighting, a fierce grin on her face.

"I'm right here you bastards," she called out, "Hit me!"

Several of the attackers spun to meet her. One screamed and swung wildly at the empty air, just as several large green thorny plants pushed up between the cobblestones.

Merrill's doing no doubt.

She heard Bianca cough death at the attackers, Varric not even bothering to quip while he took down their enemies. Bethany struck with cold and lightning, her attacks were like a scalpel tearing through them.

Hawke smiled slightly.

Her little sis had always had better luck fine tuning her spells.

Moira called on healing magic to fix her wounded arm, the deep gash closed with barely a thought.

Hawke leapt to her feet, though she was a little winded from the healing, that did not mean that she could not help.

She joined her allies in ambushing the ambushers, a few minutes later, it was all over.

They had won.

Moira leaned heavily against her staff, she was tired, but she was also more than pleased.

She could see Guardsman Donnic trying to regain his feet; they had arrived just in time.

They had saved his life.

Aveline went to the man's side, and pulled him to his feet. Her eyes were bright with concern.

"Are you well, guardsman?" she called out.

Donnic rose unsteadily, he blinked and looked around. Finally, his eyes fell on his fellow guard.

He blinked again.

"Av…Aveline," he said murmured.

She nodded, taking his hands to help steady him.

They stood there for a moment, their eyes locked.

Donnic let out a tiny gasp.

"Maker," he said in a soft voice, "You are a beautiful sight."

Aveline caught off guard by the comment, smiled, smiled and blushed.

"Guardsman," she murmured.

They were both splattered with blood and dirt from the battle, yet in that moment; neither seemed to care.

They simply stood there, his hands in hers, lost in the others' eyes.

Moira coughed and went over to where Donnic had fallen; the satchel had broken open in the fight.

She wanted to see what this was all about.

Donnic coughed, realization of where they were finally woke him from the moment he had shared with his fellow guard.

He blinked, blushing slightly.

"I…thank you Aveline," he murmured, "They came out of nowhere. I…I don't know what happened."

The guard shook his head.

"This way was supposed to be clear."

Aveline's eyes narrowed.

"I've heard that before," she said, and went to join Moira.

Bethany and Varric had beaten her there; they both were looking down at what Hawke had found.

The younger Hawke shook her head; she recognized what she was seeing, from their time indentured to Athenril.

"One of the Viscount's seals," she said, "City accounts, blank requisition requests."

Moira's eyes narrowed.

"All valuable to a gang of thieves," she said grimly.

She shook her head.

Athenril would have paid a pretty copper for this stuff. Blank requisition requests with the Viscount's seal to make them all nice and official. A thief that had this stuff could ask for anything, and they would likely get it. No businessman would want to risk angering the Viscount.

She looked at the dead attackers. There armor was unmarked, but she had seen enough coterie boys over the last year to recognize their weapons and tactics.

She shook her head.

Looks like Aveline's boss was in with some very bad people, she thought.

Now they just had to see what their old friend was going to do about it.

Aveline's eyes narrowed dangerously.

"A sacrificial offering with one of our own as the victim?" she growled.

Aveline was more than livid, the guardswoman's hands clenched into angry fists.

"Captain Jeven will answer," she growled, "This will go straight to the Viscount, it will be known."

Hawke chuckled.

"Selling out his own?" Hawke said with a smirk.

"Forget Guard Captain, this man should be in government."

Both Bethany and Aveline glared at her.

Merrill, Varric, and Isabela chuckled.

Fenris remained silent, coldly watching them.

Moira sighed.

So much for trying to lighten the mood, it was not for everyone she supposed.

"Not now Hawke," Aveline growled, "Jeven is going to learn how justice works."

Aveline smiled, it was a cruel thing, an empty thing…

…A predator's smile.

"The captain likes his thieves, well…"

Her eyes flashed dangerously.

"We will see how they welcome him in prison."

IOI

The next morning, Captain Jeven did not receive his typical welcome at the Viscount's Keep. He was met by two of the Viscount's personal guard; they seized the man in a vice-like grip.

Aveline smirked as she took the man's sword and dagger. Guardsman Donnic stood behind her, while Hawke and the rest of their band stayed back.

Seneschal Bran, the man who handled day to day operations in the keep had been called in early to deal with this matter.

The man was glaring at Jeven.

He did not like having to come in early.

It made him cranky.

"Take this man away," Bran ordered, "Clap him in irons."

Jeven spat and snarled at the man.

"YOU CAN'T DO THIS!" He howled, "I'm GUARD CAPTAIN!"

"Not anymore," Moira said under her breath, just loud enough for Aveline to hear.

The guardswoman smirked.

Jeven glared at her.

"FERELDEN BITCH," he snarled, "THIS WAS NEVER YOUR AFFAIR! I WILL SEE YOU HANGED, QUARTERED! I HAVE FRIENDS IN THIS CITY! POWERFUL FRIENDS! THEY WILL…"

"Take him away," Bran repeated, more irritated now than before.

The guards obeyed, Jeven spat and snarled the whole way.

The Seneschal looked down at the contents of the satchel from last night.

He sighed.

"I did some checking, before coming here," he said with a tired sigh, "It seems that the former captain had debts outstanding with…subject peoples."

Moira snorted.

In her world, they just called such people criminals.

She should know, she had been one of them, still was if you asked the chantry, if they knew about her magic.

"Most unfortunate," Bran said shaking his head, "that such a man should hold such a high position in our fair city.

He turned to Aveline who stood sharply to attention.

"But you Aveline Vallen," he said beaming, "Have proven both your ability and your loyalty by unmasking this…embarrassment."

Aveline did her best to keep any giddiness out of her voice.

"The guard deserves better than him, Messere." She said.

"I agree," Bran said, "Which is why I hope you will continue to look after the guards' best interest. I have already decided that you shall assume the captain's job."

Aveline's eyes widened in surprise.

"What?"

Bran smiled.

"I still need to convince the Viscount, but that should not be difficult, not given your record, and your victory today."

He looked her once over, a high nobleman already making a mental list that would turn Aveline from a guardswoman into a captain the city could respect.

"There will be additional training of course, as well as some paperwork, but I'm sure that you will be more than able to overcome it."

Aveline was beaming with pride.

Hawke chuckled.

If her friend was any happier, she might have floated away.

Bran gave her a respectful bow.

"Take care of any issues that you might have guardswoman, I believe you will be quite busy."

Bran turned and made his way up to his office.

Aveline blinked, she glanced around Jeven's office…now her office.

She was almost speechless.

She looked over at Guardsman Donnic.

The man gave her a respectful bow.

"Congratulation's Guard Captain," he purred.

Aveline blushed.

"Thank you Donnic."

He gave her a warm smile.

"It will be glorious to have you over me," he said.

Aveline gave him an arched look.

Isabela smirked.

Aveline shot her a cold glare, the unspoken words clear.

 _Shut up whore!_

"Above me," Donnic said quickly, "In rank, guard captain."

The newly minted guard captain smiled.

"Thank you Donnic," she purred, "It will be glorious indeed."

He saluted her, a salute that she returned.

He left quickly, still blushing, if Hawke was any judge.

Aveline looked around her new office.

She let out a sigh.

"Captain of the guard," she murmured.

Hawke chuckled.

"I think it will be nice to have the law on our side," she said.

Aveline smirked at her friend.

"You will behave yourselves, all of you," she said making sure her eyes stopped on Isabela above all others.

The pirate smirked.

"I just sent Jeven away for corruption," Aveline growled.

"I will not follow the same path."

Hawke gave her what she thought was an award winning pout.

"You never let us have any fun," she exclaimed.

Bethany smiled at her older sister.

"Thank goodness," she said.


	14. Him

**Chapter 14: Him**

" _Most people would have been tempted to use Aveline's position as guard captain to advance their own agenda. They would have used their friendship as leverage to get the guard to move where they needed the guard to move. Hawke…she did not do that."_

 _Varric smiled fondly._

" _She was proud of Aveline, Bethany was too, I think, though Aveline's promotion did mean that we lost the use of her blade for most of the time leading up to the expedition, Fenris did his part to make up for that, but we were a little short-handed."_

 _Hawke…she did not complain once. We would not add another blade to our party until later, but for now we made do. I can assure you Seeker, the few times that Aveline did go with us; Hawke did nothing to compromise the new guard captain's honor."_

 _Cassandra's frown deepened._

" _Except for the fact that she refused to turn Hawke and her sister over to the Templars, it was her duty to enforce but chantry law and the law of the city."_

 _Varric let out a nervous snort._

" _I suppose you got a point there," he conceded, "Still, no harm done."_

 _Cassandra's eyes narrowed with rage._

" _No harm done?" she growled, "_ _ **No! Harm! Done?!"**_

 _Varric winced._

" _Poor choice of words," he admitted, "sorry."_

 _The Seeker glared at him._

" _I should_ _ **not**_ _have to remind you of what your friends did," she growled, "And speaking of Hawke's…friends."_

 _Cassandra's gaze turned almost poisonous._

" _You seem to have forgotten one."_

 _Varric frowned._

 _Of course, he thought._

 _It all comes back…to_ _ **him…**_ _or rather_ _ **…them.**_

 _The thought made a shiver run down his spine._

" _I didn't forget, Seeker," he said._

 _Though part of me wishes I could, he thought morosely, but…you can't change the past._

 _No matter how much you might want to._

 _He raised his head and held Cassandra's gaze._

" _You wanted to hear the whole story, and I'm telling it._ _ **He**_ _did not join us until after Aveline had taken up the role of guard captain._

 _The dwarf shook his head._

" _I know this is the part that_ _ **you**_ _have been waiting for," he said, "But I'll tell you right now, it didn't play out the way most people think. Had I known what would happen…?"_

 _He sighed heavily._

" _Things might have gone quite differently."_

 _Cassandra continued to give him the evil eye._

" _We all have to live with our choices, dwarf," she said, "And the consequences of them."_

 _Varric's eyes narrowed._

 _If she did not think that he knew about consequences…she was sadly mistaken._

 _He had dealt with more of his share. He had lost plenty in his life, even before he had met Hawke._

 _He tried not to think about Bianca, the woman, not the crossbow._

 _Yes, he knew all about consequences._

 _Varric sighed, and leaned back in his chair._

" _It sounds like you have already made up your mind," he said flatly._

" _You sure you want me to continue?"_

 _Cassandra's eyes narrowed, a tense silence passed between them._

 _Finally, the Seeker relented._

" _Continue," she sighed, "I would like to hear your version of the events."_

 _Varric snorted._

" _It isn't my version, Seeker; I would have come up with something better if it was."_

 _The dwarf frowned._

" _It is the_ _ **truth,**_ _exactly what_ _ **you**_ _wanted."_

 _She snorted at his statement._

" _Then let us hear this version of the truth. Then I will make up my mind."_

 _Varric sighed._

" _As you wish," he said._

" _But just remember…you asked for it."_

 _Varric finished what water remained in his cup, his throat had suddenly gone dry, a result of remembering what had occurred in the beginning._

" _Aveline was true to her word," he said, continuing the story, "She not only rewarded Hawke for helping with the ambush, but for her role in unmasking Captain Jeven as well. The gold we received helped us keep the wolf away from the door, at least for a while. It also allowed me to pay off an old contact, a man that had found some…interesting information._

" _We still needed an entrance into the deep roads, and so far Bartrand had come up empty. According to my source, a Ferelden grey warden had just arrived in the city, given what had occurred during the recent Blight, my contact was certain that he might know of an entrance that we could use."_

 _Cassandra arched an eyebrow._

" _And you did not find it odd, the thought of a grey warden in Kirkwall?"_

" _I found it_ _ **extremely**_ _odd," he admitted, "I'd lived in Kirkwall my whole life, I knew about the…_ _ **issues**_ _between the grey wardens and the Templars, neither group is fond of the other, and both go out of the way, to stay out of the others way."_

 _Varric chuckled again._

" _There is a reason why there is no warden outpost in Kirkwall; just as there is a reason there is no Templar garrison in Ansburg. Wardens and Templars are known to give each other a wide berth. The thought that a single warden would come to Kirkwall, that was more than odd. It was unheard of._

 _Varric sighed heavily._

" _I brought this information to Hawke, though she agreed that we needed to follow the lead, she recognized the need for caution. After all, she had seen the grey wardens' march through Lothering on their way to Ostagar._

" _She knew what kind of man we would likely be dealing with."_

 _Cassandra frowned._

" _Most see the wardens as heroes," she said, "But they are troublesome, their insistence to recruit murderers and thieves has always been a problem for the chantry."_

 _The Seeker shook her head._

" _Many claim that the wardens are the greatest warriors in Thedas, but that is not why they should be watched. Far too many times the wardens have saved dangerous and unpredictable mages from their final judgment, a judgment they_ _ **was rightly**_ _deserved, and all because they needed men to fight the darkspawn."_

 _Varric chuckled._

" _Do you consider Surana Stormbreaker among those 'unpredictable mages,' Seeker?"_

 _Cassandra frowned._

" _Surana…is a known quantity; he was considered a proper circle mage before he…"_

" _Before he wasn't?" Varric grinned, "I've heard the stories, Seeker, something about aiding a blood mage?"_

 _Cassandra Pentaghast growled._

" _Surana is_ _ **not**_ _the issue here," she reminded, "The champion sought out this grey warden's aid didn't she?"_

 _Varric nodded._

" _That she did Seeker," he replied coolly._

" _That she did."_

IOI

Moira wrinkled her nose as they moved forward, behind her, Varric, Bethany, and Fenris followed. Hawke nearly tripped over a bit of old mining track, she stumbled and ended up putting her hand in something nasty sticking to one of the walls.

"Ugh," she groaned, wiping the offending substance off.

Varric shook his head as he looked at the crumbling walkways, and dug out chambers before them.

The dwarf shook his head.

"You know what I like about Darktown," he said shaking his head.

"Absolutely nothing."

Hawke sighed as she led them across an old rickety walkway.

In this, she thought, Varric and I totally agree.

Darktown, or the Undercity, as it was known by some, was Kirkwall's dirty little secret. Made up of old mining tunnels it was a sad reminder of the dark past of the city, of a time when Kirkwall was one of the jewels in the crown of the Tevinter Imperium.

Moira shuddered.

Before the Imperium had Quarries outside the city, slaves had toiled here, gather the metals needed to rule an empire. Now this place was home for the fearful and desperate, a place that sheltered people with nowhere else to go, and no one to care about them. Far too many Fereldans had ended up here after fleeing the Blight…

And somewhere down here, the healer had hidden himself.

Hawke's quest to find the grey warden, the one that the Fereldans in the city knew as the healer had begun with a meeting with Madame Lirene, the owner and proprietor of Lirene's Ferelden imports. Lirene had been doing what she could to help the Fereldans here in Kirkwall, she had been in business before the Blight had begun, and now was seen by most as the leader of the Fereldan community.

At first, she had not wished to pester the healer with Hawke's presence, the man had helped many, and she had no desire to see him bothered or hurt because Hawke and her allies wished to have words with him.

The Ferelden refugees had come to respect the man, so much to the point that a group of refugees had threatened Hawke and her allies, fearful that they were going to turn the healer over to the Templars.

The discovery that the mysterious grey warden was a mage almost made Hawke smile, it was ironic, when you thought about it.

Back in Ferelden these people would have been frightened of an apostate, even one claiming to be a grey warden, most would have been jumping over each other to turn him over to the Templars, and now, here they were, defending him.

 _Irony._

Bethany, offended that someone would think she would ever turn another over to the Templars, confronted the would-be mob. Both her her plea, and her Ferelden accent convinced the would-be mob that they meant the man no harm, Moira had never seen her little sister behave so bravely, it impressed her to no end.

And now here they were, searching the undercity for this mysterious healer, the one said to be a grey warden.

" _If you seek the healer,"_ Lirene had said, _"Look for the lit lantern, if your desire is great enough, Anders will be there."_

The group moved down an old stone stair way, past a rusted out mining cart, sunlight filtered in where the Tevinters had literally cut away the cliff, opening the shaft to the sea.

Hawke was grateful for the sea breeze; it killed some of the smell down here. She…

She paused.

Up ahead was an old wooden door, one of the few she had seen in Darktown, to the right of the door, hung a single lantern, lit and flickering brightly.

The mage smiled.

Perhaps they had found the healer's hideout.

They made for the door, it opened without a creek, and they stepped inside.

Hawke shivered.

The healer's domain was a large room; several cots had been set up to accommodate those in need. In the back corner a small fire burned; its smoke rich with the smell of healing herbs. To their right stood a small scavenged table, it was covered with various bottles and small crates, tools of someone of the healing trade no doubt, and there just beyond the table, with his back to them, stood a mage.

Moira had to admit, when Varric had told her about this, she expected someone older, some aged war-veteran tired of a life battling the darkspawn, even from the back it was clear this mage was young, he stood straight, and was broad shouldered, his robes covered a muscular frame. Long blonde hair was pulled back in a messy pony tail, a blue coat with feathered pauldrons stood out sharply against the squalor around them.

A young couple stood to his left, a man and a woman in common Fereldan clothes. They watched closely as the mage gestured over the body of a small boy, silver light flowed from the mage's fingertips into the boy's thin body.

Moira could feel the forces in play here. She and Bethany knew a few healing spells, but what was going on here went far beyond their simple knowledge. The magics being used by this man were far more complex, it was likely that this healer would be able to heal almost any wound.

The glow intensified, Moira felt the strength of the magic, grow; it left her almost giddy like sharp smell of healing herbs, but only stronger, it almost took her breath away.

The light did not fade, but flashed out of existence, the boy on the table gasped and sat up. His mother, leaned down to embrace the lad, even from a distance they could hear her laughter, laughter tinged with tears of relief.

The healer took several deep breaths, his hands on his knees as he struggled to remain upright.

The boy's father did what he could to help him, whispering word of thanks, possibly even slipping a coin or two into the mage's hand.

Hawke and company waited until the couple had left, their newly healed son walking between them for safety.

The mage made for his table of components, he drank something from a small vial on the table, his breathing slowed, his posture, seemed to relax.

It was only then that Moira and her friends approached. They all kept their hands away from their weapons, healer or no, this man was still said to be a grey warden.

Hawke had no desire to see anyone harmed if the mage thought them a threat, especially after what they had just seen.

Normally she would have tried to hide her magic from a fellow mage, not wishing him to identify herself right away; here she reached out with her magic, wanting him to see just who was standing before him.

She knew immediately that the mage sensed them, one second he was standing there, catching his breath, and the next.

He stood before them twirling his staff defensively, arcane energies crackled around him like heat lightning.

So fast, Moira thought. She thought she heard Bethany gasp, even her little sister was impressed with the man's speed.

The healer's face was not that of the grizzled warden she might have expected, despite the grime, he was quite handsome, several days' growth of beard graced his chin, giving what would have been boyish good looks a more…roguish sensibility.

He pinned them with a harsh stare, for just a moment she had thought she had something flickering beneath his skin, something that faded almost as soon as she tried to get a good look at it.

The healer raised his hand, Anders raised his hand.

"I have made this place a sanctuary for healing and salvation," he growled fiercely.

"Why have you threatened it?"

Moira licked her lips; the warden looked ready for a fight.

She tried a warm smile, but it came off as a nervous one, a short giggle escaped her throat, which she did her best to kill…

She resisted the urge to shake her head.

…So much for making a good first impression.


	15. The Healer's Friend

**Chapter 15: The Healer's Friend**

" _ **Anders."**_

 _Cassandra did not even try to hide the venom in her voice, her hatred. Varric did not blame her; after all, most people looked at his old friends actions as the spark that lit the inferno that was now slowly engulfing their world, a fire that no amount of politicking and compromise could stop._

 _Varric shook his head._

 _Wasn't that what Anders had said once…he wanted to take the chance of compromise out of the equation._

 _The dwarf sighed._

 _No, he did not blame the Seeker, or the rage she felt, what bothered him above all else was that she would no doubt try to pin what happened later on Hawke, that she would try to say that Moira had been a part of what was to come._

 _He could not let that happen._

 _He would not let that happen._

 _His eyes narrowed as he regarded the seeker._

" _Yeah," he said grimly, "Blondie himself, but before you start snarling about what was to come, about why we didn't do this or that, try to remember where Hawke was at this point. The Anders that the world would come to know that wasn't him_ _ **not**_ _yet, at that very moment he was just the healer of Darktown. A brave soul that gave with no thought of reward, a man who was trying to help the Fereldans anyway he could. The only thing that Anders was guilty of back then was trying to stay out of the Templars' shadow."_

 _The Seeker glared at him._

" _Are you trying to make light of what happened?" she demanded._

" _No," he growled back, "I'm trying to make you see that Hawke_ _ **didn't**_ _know what was going to happen, not back then. At that moment, Anders was simply a means to an end. He knew about the deep roads, and we needed that knowledge."_

 _Varric's frown deepened._

" _All Hawke wanted back then, was to survive, to live her life. She was not trying to make waves. She had never woken up one morning and said: 'Gee, I think I will become Champion of Kirkwall today'"_

 _Varric snorted angrily._

" _With the exception of Merrill and her sister, Hawke had had no contact with the Kirkwall mages up to that point. She never went near the Gallows. She avoided Templar patrols whenever she saw them, and she never practiced magic where witnesses would easily identify her."_

 _Cassandra gave him an arched look._

" _Yet she aided Anders?" the Seeker said crossing her arms over her chest, "You cannot expect me to believe that she had no desire to help her fellow mages."_

 _Varric sighed and leaned back in his chair._

" _Hawke felt sympathy for the mages of Kirkwall, I don't doubt that," he said, "But that did not mean that she was willing to stick her neck out so far that some Templar would be able to cut off her head. Our relationship with Blondie should have ended after a single simple act, a favor for a favor._

 _The dwarf frowned._

" _Anders admitted to having liberated warden maps of the deep roads, maps that meant a lot as we continued to try and get the expedition off the ground. The price he asked for those maps was…on the surface…a small thing."_

 _Varric sighed again._

" _A small thing that ended up showing us exactly who we were dealing with. The healer was more than he appeared, more even that the grey warden that he claimed to have once been._

 _Cassandra's eyes narrowed._

" _And just who was it you were dealing with?"_

 _He shook his head._

" _Something that did not believe in compromise, something that had…its own ideas about the concept of justice."_

 _He took a deep breath; he glanced down at his empty cup, wishing that he had had something a little stronger than water in it._

 _It was hard for him to think about those early days now, so much had happened since then._

 _Back then, he had been so certain, he knew what he had wanted, and how far he was willing to go to get there._

 _He could not help but think, had they gone too far, bringing Anders into their little group, letting him get too close to all of them?_

 _Blondie would have called what happened necessary; that everything had happened because that was the only way that justice was going to get done._

 _ **No**_ _chance of negotiation._

 _ **No**_ _chance of_ _ **compromise.**_

 _That is what Blondie had wanted; he had wanted the world to pick a side._

 _He had wanted hard justice, and that…is what he had gotten…_

… _in the end._

IOI

It was almost dawn when Moira Hawke made her way back to Anders clinic in Darktown, five hours had passed since they had performed Anders' 'favor' in the chantry.

Moira pursed her lips.

She had been shock when all that had ended, numb by what they had faced, and what she had seen. She had been in the Hanged Man almost three hours when she finally decided to pay the healer a visit.

He won't be there, a little voice in the back of her head said, he will have vanished into the night and you will be left with nothing, no maps, no coin, no expedition, and the Templars yipping at your heels.

That thought only further fired her temper; her blue eyes almost glowed in the darkness, fueled by both rage and magic.

Bethany walked beside her, trying to sway her from this course, to talk her down.

"Be calm sister," she said, "It wasn't Anders' fault."

Moira's eyes narrowed.

 _How in the name of Andraste could her sister say such a thing?_

 _ **Not**_ _his_ _ **fault?!**_

Then whose bloody fault was this nightmare?!

IOI

The former warden had had a simple proposition. He had come to Kirkwall with one mission in mind, one final task before he could vanish into the shadows. He had been maintaining a dialogue with a mage name Karl Thekla, once the man had been in the Ferelden Circle, but had been moved to Kirkwall when it was decided that the Gallows required new magical talent. According to Anders, his old friend's last letter had said that the Knight-Commander Meredith was turning the Circle in Kirkwall into a prison.

Anders, worried about his friend, took it upon himself to free his old friend from that fate. He had managed to sneak a letter to Karl, suggesting that they meet that very night at midnight, within the walls of the chantry. Anders had thought this a good idea, the priests would not stop a mage seeking comfort, no matter the hour, and if any Templars did accompany him, they would be wary of damaging their precious chantry.

The healer had informed Hawke that he was prepared to go alone to free his friend, but with her help, and the help of her allies, he thought that they could do it with less risk of loss of life. Even Templars were not eager to engage a superior force, with luck they would be able to liberate Karl from the Templars, and have him out of the city before the chantry's warriors could gather his phylactery and pursue.

Moira had not liked the idea, up to this point she had felt that avoiding any contact with the Templars was by far the safest course of action. She had expected Bethany to back her up on that point but her little sister surprised her.

She felt that the task was worth the risk.

"You need the maps, yes?" Bethany had said, "Helping this man is the quickest route to get them, and besides."

Bethany had smiled at Anders then.

"It is the right thing to do."

The healer had given her a gentle look, not a smile, but close.

"Thank you, dear lady," he cooed.

Bethany blushed.

Moira was still not sure, but also recognized that they had little alternative, without those deep roads maps, their expedition was dead in the water.

They had had no choice.

If this was a trap, she did not intend to walk into it unprepared. She gathered the others and they set out from the Hanged Man just before midnight. Only Aveline did not accompany them, the guard captain in training had had duties that took up most of her time now. Fenris agreed to come, but it was likely more for the Templars benefit than theirs.

The elf wanted to make sure that she kept her word; that they would try not to kill unnecessarily.

They met with Anders under a shadowed pillar in the chantry courtyard. The healer had seen no sign of any Templars, Karl had entered the chantry alone, and unaccompanied.

That piece of information set off an alarm bell in the back of Hawke's mind.

If the Knight-Commander was turning the Circle into a prison, then why would she allow a lone mage out unattended at this hour?

Anders agreed with her, but he still thought that they had little choice, they were now committed to the act of freeing Karl, if they backed away now, they would likely never get another chance.

No, Anders was committed, they would proceed as planned.

Hawke sighed, but relented, they still needed those maps, if she backed out now the chances of getting them would fade.

She was not willing to let that happen.

Their little group entered the chantry, Isabela agreed to stay behind, watch the door, in case they had any uninvited guests.

The group made their way up the stairs, Karl Thekla stood with his back to them, staring intently at one of the holy braziers.

When he spoke, his voice chilled Hawke to the bone.

"I knew you couldn't resist coming here, Anders," the mage had said in a flat monotone voice, "I know you too well."

It was in that moment that the whole thing had went straight to the void.

It was in that moment that they all learned the truth about Anders, and why exactly he had left his life in the wardens.

For Moira, it was a disturbing realization.

IOI

As they approached the door of Anders' clinic, its lit lantern glowing in the predawn shadows, it was all Hawke could do to restrain herself from blasting the door off its hinges with force magic. Her anger had grown so great on the way here that she had almost done it on reflex.

At the last minute, she managed to restrain herself; she had opened the door slowly; making sure that no unpleasant surprises awaited them within.

She was surprised to see that Anders had not fled after all; in fact, it looked like he had not moved since returning here.

The former grey warden was sitting on a small cot by the fire; he was still covered in blood from the fight a few hours earlier. He looked down at his hands, still dark with the dried blood of his friend Karl Thekla.

Anders barely noticed them.

Moira came to a stop just out of arms reach of him. Fenris stood behind her, his great sword in hand. Isabela played idly with her daggers, gently flipping one end over end. Merrill stayed close to Varric, doing her best to remain silent. She had been very chatty at the Hanged Man, talking about what they had seen. Hawke had glared at her, a glare so cold that it even convinced the normally talky Dalish to remain silent. She was not hiding behind Varric per se, but she clearly did not wish for Hawke to notice her.

Bethany's face held so many conflicting emotions, fear and concern shone in her eyes, in equal measure. Moira was not quite sure what to make of that. Bethany should have been as angry at the healer as she was.

He had led them all into a trap.

It turned out that the Templars had already **known** about Karl's letters to his old friend, and that more than one of them had felt that what the mage had been saying in those letters were an act of rebellion. The Templar in charge, a Ser Bardel, had acted on the order of one of his superiors, a Templar named Ser Alrik.

Moira shuddered the memory of Karl Thekla standing there would haunt her for a very long time. Not the man himself, but the sunburst brand on his forehead, and what it had meant.

The mere thought of it made her almost whimper, she had heard of what had been done, but had never seen the results herself until that very night.

She shook her head.

Karl Thekla had been made tranquil.

She knew about the rite of Tranquility of course, which mage didn't? She knew of the act of branding a mage's mind with lyrium, cutting the mage off from his or her magical talent, and in the process killing their ability to feel emotions and dream.

The result of the rite was that the mage had no will of their own; they served the circle as its representatives, selling wares, and tending to the art of enchantment.

Moira had been led to believe that only mages that had not passed their final test could be made tranquil, that was chantry law, or so her father had always taught her.

Anders' friend should not have been made tranquil, the Templars had no right to do that to him; no matter what they felt he had done.

As a tranquil Thekla could only obey the rules of the circle, he gave up Anders to Ser Bardel. A full squad of Templar hunters had been hiding in the up level of the chantry, waiting to strike.

It was only when the Templars revealed themselves, when they began to move in that Anders had finally struck back, and what a strike it was.

As a mage, Moira had never felt anything like it. It was a flare of power like she had never felt before!

Ander' body had blazed with silver fire. His face was wreathed in fade magic, the power of it flowing through his veins like blood. His eyes blazed with harsh white light.

Moira had never felt anything like it, in the past she had only been able to access the fade while she was sleeping.

Yet through Anders it had been brought to them.

Even the Templars had been taken back by his transformation. The former warden's pained cry turned into a howl of pure rage.

" _ **YOU SHALL NEVER TAKE ANOTHER MAGE AS YOU TOOK HIM!"**_

Hawke and her allies had defended themselves; the Templars had not even given them the chance to surrender. Anders, or the thing that had been Anders, tore through them like a blade harvesting wheat.

Ser Bardel had been the last to die, his head crushed inside his helmet by a wave of magic that exploded from Anders hands.

As the light faded, the former warden had returned to normal, and surprisingly, so had the tranquil Karl.

The man had begged Anders to end it, for that one brief moment he was himself again, whatever Anders had done had restored him, but it was not permanent, Karl was fading fast. He only had one request of his old friend.

He wanted Anders to end him.

Moira could only stand and watch as Anders took mercy on his friend. She knew what she would want in his situation. The thought of still being alive, but not being able to feel the love for family was terrifying. Maker knew; the thought of losing the ability to be terrified was terrifying to her.

She and Bethany said nothing as Anders plunged a dagger into Karl's chest. The healer lowered his friend to ground gently, offering him that one last comfort as his life slipped away.

After the battle, they had scattered, fleeing the chantry in case Templar reinforcements were on their way.

The group fled to Varric's apartment in the Hanged Man, the dwarf sent one of his contacts to keep an eye on Gamlen's home, to see if any Templars showed up to arrest Hawke and Bethany, none came, and as the night continued on. Hawke slowly realized that she and Bethany were safe, for the moment.

Once the numbness and shock wore off, Hawke realized that she had been terrified; the one thought that had kept rushing through her head was that they were dead. That the Templars would be coming for them and there was nothing they could do about it.

She and Bethany had never harmed a Templar before; not ever, kill _one_ Templar, and _twenty_ more will come for you, father had said. Now a full team of hunters were dead, it had been self-defense of course, but the chantry would not care.

Moira shook her head.

A mage kills a Templar it is murder. A Templar kills a mage, and it is justice.

That was just how the world worked.

As the night passed and no one came to arrest them, her fear had turned to anger. Moira had searched Bardel's body, after the battle, the letter she found on him made it sound that he had acted on his own, with only this…Ser Alrik with full knowledge what was to occur in the chantry, which meant they were likely safe, still, the fact that they had gone there as a favor to the healer ate at her. It had been Anders who had brought them to this, that man, or whatever he was, had led them all into a trap.

Hawke suspected that she knew what he was, but wanted to hear it herself, from his own lips.

That had sent them running to Darktown, that had led them here, to the moment when they were all standing before him.

Hawke glared down at Anders, she had many questions.

She would now have answers.

IOI

"Let me guess," she growled her voice equal parts venom and sarcasm.

"You're an _abomination_ , right?"

Anders shuddered, but did not look up at them; he continued to look down at his bloody hands.

The former warden sighed.

"You're wrong," he said, "But **not** far wrong."

He shook his head.

"When I was still a warden in Amaranthine, I met someone, one of the maker's first children, a spirit of justice that had been trapped outside the fade. During our time together we became friends, and he came to see the injustice that the mages in Thedas faced every day."

Anders sighed again.

"At the time, Justice had been using the body of a slain warden to manifest in our world, he could not exist anyway else. Before I left, he, I we…we decided to help each other. He had grown tired of playing the demon and hiding in the body of a dead man.

Anders pursed his lips at the sad memory.

"I thought I could help him. I figured, a willing host, a friend, one who accepted what was being done. I thought that would enable us both to have what we wanted. Together, we were going to bring justice to every child who had been ripped away from his mother and sent to the circle."

The healer's eyes narrowed.

"It did not work out, not the way we had hoped."

Moira stood there, slack jawed. If what Anders had told her was true?

It…it was…

"You let a spirit _possess_ you?" she growled.

Anders nodded.

Hawke's eyes narrowed.

"Are you mad?!"

Anders snorted with amusement.

"Perhaps." He said.

Foolish," she spat, "extremely foolish!"

"Sister," Bethany said her own eyes narrowing.

"You have no right to say such things."

Moira glared at her.

"Don't you remember what father used to say about spirits," she asked her younger sister.

Bethany frowned.

"That isn't the point Moira, what he said…"

"What did father use to say," Moira repeated, "Say it!"

Her sister frowned.

"The motivation of spirits is not the same as that of a mortal person," she said, "They have their own desires one that we may not understand."

Moira turned back to Anders.

"You were a circle mage yourself once," she asked.

The former warden nodded.

"Then you should know that too," she said.

Anders was on his feet in seconds.

"Justice did not desire to see me destroyed, he was a benevolent spirit, he only wanted to help."

Moira's eyes narrowed.

"That did not look like a benevolent spirit in the chantry; it did not seem nice or particularly helpful."

Anders put his hands on his hips.

"Since when is justice nice," he demanded, "justice is righteous, justice is hard."

The two of them were glaring at each other now; neither was willing to back down. Moira was angry that he had put both her and Bethany in danger. Anders was angry that she did not approve of the choice he had made.

Bethany stepped forward, she put a gentle hand on her sister's arm, Moira glanced at her, but when she saw the look in her eyes, she backed down.

Hawke's sister turned to Anders, her eyes shining with compassion.

"You tried to help a friend," she said, "There is no harm in that."

Anders met her gaze, any anger he felt faded under the regard of those honey-brown eyes.

He sighed, shook his head and sat back down.

"If only I still had your innocence," he murmured, "I thought that we, Justice and I, that we would be in this together, but my anger, it was too much for him, it is too much."

The former warden almost sobbed.

"He is gone now," he said, "He is a part of me. We no longer can converse as we once did. He only comes out when I'm angry, when I see Templars, when I think of what they have done, and see that they can do worse."

Anders clenched his hands into angry fists.

"He comes out, but he is no longer my friend justice. He is a force of vengeance and he has no concept of mercy."

Moira blinked.

She understood what Anders had tried to do, but she could not forget her father's lessons.

They had walked the fade together, when she was young. Malcolm Hawke had not wanted his daughter to be scared of the fade, but to be cautious of it. The spirits, even the benevolent ones, had their own games and hierarchies. He had introduced her to a spirit of fortitude, it was pleased that he would take it upon himself to train his child, the creature drew sustenance from Malcolm's courage, but he had cautioned his daughter that even such a spirit as that one could be dangerous if provoked.

One did not make deals with spirits, not when it meant giving the spirit a foothold in the mortal realm; it was a recipe for disaster.

She looked down on Anders. The healer refused to meet her gaze. He had to have known what would come of his actions, but…

He had tried to help a friend?

Wasn't that worthy of some respect?

Bethany put her hand on his shoulder, he glanced up, into her smiling face, he gently lay a blood hand over hers, accepting her comfort.

He sighed.

"I still owe you for what you did, for trying to help with Karl," he said to Moira.

He rose as Bethany stepped back, he met Moira's gaze evenly.

"I thought I was done with the deep roads, and the warden life, but if you will have me, I will do what I can to help."

Moira considered his offer. Having a warden on their side in the deep roads would be useful, but at the same time she was worried about Anders "friend."

What they had seen in the chantry wasn't control; it was a frenzy, if he did that in a critical situation…

…they might all pay the price.

She did her best to weigh her options, fear versus usefulness. Anders was a skilled healer; she had felt that, he would be useful in both Kirkwall and the deep roads.

She glanced over at Fenris; the elf had remained quiet during their discussion.

She knew what he would say, that they should watch Anders, make sure that this "Justice" did not harm any innocent people. The Templars that had attacked them had been willing to kill them, they had offered no mercy. No doubt Fenris would lose no sleep over those deaths.

Hawke sighed.

She would try to follow him example.

"You're in," she informed Anders.

He nodded.

"Then I will endeavor not to disappoint you."

Hawke nodded, accepting his words.

It was then that she led the rest of their little group out of Darktown; the sky was already starting to turn pink with the coming dawn. She wanted to get at least some rest before starting the day.

Fenris came up beside her.

The elf looked…concerned.

"This will not end well, mage," he told her.

Moira frowned.

You may be right, she thought to herself.

You may be right.

She shook her head.

Aveline was just going to **love** this.


	16. Downtime

**Chapter 16: Downtime**

" _As you can guess, the deaths of the Ser Bardel and his men set off a shit storm."_

 _Varric pursed his lips at the memory, shaking his head as well._

" _Knight-Commander Meredith was furious. The thought that someone would kill her men inside the chantry filled her with what I'm sure she thought was a righteous rage."_

" _She tried to deny the city guard access to the crime, claiming the Templars had jurisdiction over anything that happened on chantry holdings. The guards that had had been the first to respond to the attack were dismissed by Knight-Captain Cullen and his lieutenants."_

 _Cassandra's frown deepened._

" _I'm surprised that Cullen did not find out what happened that day, from what I have seen of the man, he is quite thorough._

 _Varric chuckled at that._

" _Curly knows his shit, I don't deny that, but Hawke recognized that a full Templar investigation was not in our best interest, if it led back to us, then we all would have suffered the iron lady's wrath."_

 _The Seeker's brow furrowed._

" _What did the Champion do?"_

 _Varric chuckled again._

" _Her duty as a citizen of Kirkwall, of course," he answered, "She still had the letter she found on Ser Bardel. She got the letter to Aveline who got it into the hands of the Seneschal, who, in turn, got it to both the Viscount and a Grand Cleric."_

 _The dwarf smirked slightly._

" _The Templars who had tried to trap Anders had violated chantry law. Karl Thekla had passed his harrowing, whatever that was. According to Anders no Templar can make a harrowed mage tranquil not without a signed order from both the First Enchanter, and the Knight-Commander respectively…_

 _He shrugged._

"… _Bardel had never bothered to get that order. The letter we found on his body proved that, and also identified his immediate superior, a Ser Alrik, as being complacent in the act."_

 _The dwarf snorted with amusement._

" _That simple piece of paper turned the whole matter upside down. Both Meredith and the First Enchanter were called to the chantry to meet with Grand Cleric Elthina, to explain what had happened. The iron lady had, in only a matter of hours, went from someone who was rightfully enraged by what happened to now having to defend herself against some serious charges of her men breaking chantry law. Alrik had always been one of her great cronies, or so I understand; now she had to explain his actions to the Grand Cleric, and assign appropriate punishment and blame."_

 _The Seeker's frown deepened, but she did not comment on Varric's take on the events._

 _Unlike many people he had talked to in the chantry, the Seeker understood the concept of chantry law. Several of the Templars his contacts had talked to felt that Meredith should have simply overruled the Grand Cleric on that matter, but the problem was she did not have the power to do so, at least not at that time._

 _Varric's smile dropped away when he told the Seeker what came out of all that._

" _Elthina expected an apology out of Meredith, not to her, but to the First Enchanter for what had been done to Karl Thekla. She probably went ahead with it, but after that, the First Enchanter was all but barred from visiting the Viscount's keep again. Any problems that the mages had would now have to go through Meredith herself. When it came to punishing Ser Alrik for his role in what happened, the iron lady chose to suspend the man for two weeks without pay, meaning that he could not leave the Gallows._

 _He sighed heavily._

" _Two weeks' pay," he said morosely, "I guess that is what Meredith felt that an innocent mage's life was worth, and I can only imagine that Ser Alrik took out any anger over his punishment on the mages in his charge. I can only guess what the mages thought of that."_

 _He frowned._

" _We did what had to be done, stopped the Templars from cracking down, and protected Hawke and the rest of our magical friends at the same time, but there was a cost, and the mages in the Gallows paid it."_

 _Cassandra gave him a cold look._

" _I suspect that the champion did not simply go back to her work like nothing happened, not after such a close call?"_

 _Varric chuckled again._

" _You got that right Seeker. Hawke decided it was best that we all lay low for a while. Too many eyes were looking for rogue mages, even with the Bardel thing resolved. The Templars started stationing men inside the chantry at night now, just to make sure that no more clandestine meetings took place in its halls. Hawke and the rest of our allies stuck to the Hanged Man. The rest of the group settled in, while Hawke and I attempted to drum up some more work for us. It also gave me time to check out the authenticity of the maps that Anders got for us, make sure that Blondie wasn't conning us."_

 _Cassandra crossed her arms over her chest._

" _I take it that the maps proved to be genuine?"_

" _As real as such things can get, Seeker," he replied._

 _The Seeker nodded and began to pace in front of him, her brow furrowed in thought._

 _Varric waited for her to ask him to continue, she seemed to have something on her mind._

" _I am surprised by the fact that the Champion did not use the Templar's letter more to her advantage," Cassandra purred softly, "Surely she could have used it to advance her cause of subversion."_

 _Varric's eyes narrowed._

" _I told you before, Seeker," he sighed, "Hawke was not trying to subvert anyone or anything. That business in the chantry was all Blondie's idea. Hawke just did her best to make sure that it didn't come back and bite her in the ass."_

 _Cassandra turned and glared at him._

" _Though I cannot dispute what you are telling me," she said, "I also cannot take it completely at face value. I do not believe that you are telling me everything that happened."_

 _He smirked and leaned back in his chair._

" _You wanted to know what really happened, I'm telling you. Am I leaving things out? Sure, but only to protect those that had nothing to do with what happened later, more than a few of my contacts would have been severely punished if anyone knew they had talked or done anything to support Hawke during that time._

 _The dwarf shook his head._

" _I haven't lied to you Seeker, not about this. You wanted to know what happened with Hawke, I'm telling you, and why not, it has been too long, perhaps it is time for this story to finally get out._

 _He shook his head slightly._

" _Everything I have told you about Hawke has been the truth, I promise."_

 _The Seekers eyes narrowed._

" _That remains to be seen dwarf," she growled._

 _Varric shrugged, it did not matter to him if she believed him or not._

 _He knew what was true._

 _The Seeker sighed and shook her head._

 _What did the champion do while she was laying low? Was your expedition the only thing she was concerned with?"_

 _The dwarf shook his head no._

" _No," he said, "There were plenty of people in Lowtown who needed help, and Hawke recognized the need to repair her equipment, and replenish her supplies._

 _He sighed._

" _I remember this one time, just after that business in the chantry. Hawke had come to the Hanged Man for the night, looking for a little peace and quiet she could work by. Her uncle had said something or done something that had annoyed her and she made her way down the street to my place. Her staff had gotten cracked you see, damaged during the fight in the chantry, the whole center of the shaft was cracked, and she was hoping to repair it." He smiled slightly again, the old memory put a smile on his face._

 _He could almost see her, sitting at his work table, her brow furrowed, her lips pursed with concentration, and all while she applied both wood and leather to her staff, trying to restore it to working order._

 _The memory made him smile. He had been working on one of his serials that night, hoping to get the last few chapters done so that he could send them to his publisher._

 _Seeing her so quiet and determined, it was a cute image, one that he had held onto all these years. Sadly, he nothing in his apartment to aid her in her endeavor, finally, she was forced to seek help elsewhere…._

 _It was here that he picked up his story again; Hawke had told him about the encounter that came about that night. He felt that the Seeker might want to hear about it. He had not really talked about what they did in their down time yet. So far all she had heard was about Hawke in battle, and about blood and death._

 _He wanted to show the Seeker that that was not all she was, she was so much more than all that._

 _That she was so much more._

IOI

Moira knocked on the door as she stepped into the darkened hall. The sun had almost set and the old Hightown mansion was already dark as a room in the undercity.

She frowned slightly.

She was hoping that he was here; she did not wish to come in here and take something that was not her's even if it did not really belong to him either.

"Fenris?" she called out, "Fenris are you here?"

There was a shuffling noise on the landing above her. She stood straighter, just in case whoever had heard her was not her elven companion.

She looked around the darkened receiving room and shuddered.

They had killed so many of Danarius' demons here, she found herself hoping she had not missed one.

Fenris emerged from the shadows, it was clear that she had caught him a little off guard, for starters he was not wearing the spikey armor she had always seen him in, instead he wore a plain white shirt and black trousers, though that did not mean that he had not come prepared.

In his right hand he held a candle, in the left he carried his great sword, drawn and ready for action.

He looked down from the top of the stairs, though he looked tired, his harsh manner was still enough to intimate her, that and his cold green eyes.

"What do you want mage?" he inquired gruffly.

Hawke shuffled her feet.

"Um…ah…hi Fenris," she began, "Well…you see um…my staff got damaged in that fight the other night, it is cracked right down the middle.

She raised the staff for him to see, but made a point of not pointing it at him, she had no desire to provoke him. She did not wish to disturb him; this was entirely a social call.

"I was hoping that you might have something here that would enable me to fix it, perhaps your former master left a repair kit behind, or maybe some spell books that might contain something that would allow me to hurry the work along."

She smiled innocently at him.

"I did not want to take anything without your permission; this is your home now after all."

Fenris snorted at that, whether it was because she was asking his permission or that this place was his home she could not say.

Finally, he nodded, and motioned for her to follow him back into the room he had taken over as his living quarters. She had followed eagerly, she had not been here since the night they cleared this place of the demons that his former master had left behind.

She was at least a little curious what he had done with the place since then.

Fenris let her in; the bedroom in which he was staying now was larger than their farmhouse back in Lothering. The elf's supplies were stacked neatly against the far wall, a small fire burned merrily in the room's hearth. On a small table, not far from the fireplace was Fenris' armor, he had likely been servicing and repairing it when she had come to call, an open bottle of wine sat nearby.

The elf leaned his sword against the wall and made for the far corner of the room.

Hawke stepped across the threshold. Fenris was digging around in one of the corners muttering softly to himself, when he finally rose up again, he held a small leather pouch, in his hands, a single Tevinter symbol graced the front of it, made with gold thread.

"A repair kit," he said holding it out to her, "Mages back home used to always carry at least one with them."

She nodded accepting his gift, she might have left right then but the elf gestured her to take a seat by the fire, so surprised by his hospitality, she obeyed without question.

She sat down in a large maroon arm chair, while Fenris picked up the bottle of wine from the table.

Moira gave him an arched look curious about its contents.

"Aggregio," he informed her, "Danarius used to have me serve it to his guests."

The elf shook his head.

"He said my presence intimidated them."

Hawke laughed nervously.

"Nothing like a little fear with your wine, huh?"

Fenris' eyes narrowed.

"Danarius used to say the same thing."

He took a long pull on the bottle, after a moment, he took it from his lips, looked at it, and finally chucked it against the wall, what little wine inside remained splattered, staining the wall.

His lips curled with amusement.

"It is nice that I can still appreciate the simple things," he informed her.

Moira still unsure how to respond, chuckled.

"You could have at least offered me a glass first," she said with a slight pout.

"There is more in the cellar," he said, "If you are interested."

She waved her hand dismissively.

"Perish the thought," she said dryly, "If I did that, how would you find a way to redecorate the walls."

She expected an icy glare from him, that or a slight snort of possible amusement.

She was greatly surprised when he laughed, actually laughed.

She relaxed slightly then.

She took his response as a good sign.

He shook his head and found his way to a seat across from her.

"I've tried to abandon my past," he said, "But it just won't stay there."

He leaned back in his chair; a tired sigh escaped his lips.

"I take it you remain committed to your plan," she asked, "You intend to stay and wait for your former master."

Fenris nodded.

"Better to fight from a fortified position here. I'm tired of the constant wandering, always looking over my shoulder, if Danarius wants me, he will find me here."

The elf's eyes narrowed.

"I will run no longer."

"Have you been on the run long?" she inquired.

"Almost three years now," Fenris replied, "Up until now, Danarius' hunters have always found me, at least now they will not have search for me, I'm staying right here."

Hawke was not sure what to say. She tried to imagine what that would be like, living on the run for almost three years. How the elf had not simply given up, she could not imagine. She feared that she would not last a week on her own, much less a year.

She looked down into the fire, thinking about home, about Lothering and everything that had been destroyed in the Blight.

She sighed heavily.

With everything that had happened, there had been little time to get homesick.

She was surprised that she was still able to.

She had just been getting used to the silence when Fenris spoke up again.

"What of you mage?" he asked.

She blinked.

"Me?"

"Yes, why do you stay in Kirkwall? You could certainly return to your home in Ferelden?"

Moira sighed.

"Lothering is gone," she said sadly, "We've heard from a few of our neighbors, going back and trying to rebuild, but from what we saw fleeing here, it is safe to say that the lands we lived on are too tainted to ever return."

She shook her head.

"No that part of our lives is over."

Fenris was not so willing to let his question end there.

"You could try to reclaim what you lost," he said, "Is there anything here for you and your family?"

Moira's brow furrowed in thought.

"My mother is from Kirkwall, our legacy is here."

She smiled weakly.

"Whatever that means."

Fenris sighed and looked into the fire.

"To have a place that you can call your own, and put down roots."

He sighed heavily.

"It must be gratifying.

"It is a chance to make a difference, at least," she said, "A chance to restore our family name."

She laughed at that.

"Though…I cannot imagine what kind of noble I'm going to be. It may be like trying to put a silk hat on a pig."

Fenris' ears twitched at her statement.

"I saw many mage nobles pass through Danarius' home, you are nothing like them, or least you seem to be nothing like them."

She gave him a hopeful look.

"Is that a good thing?"

"Perhaps," he said.

She winced.

"Is…is it a _**bad**_ thing."

"We shall see," he said.

Moira shrugged.

At least he was trying to keep an open mind.

Fenris sighed.

"I never did thank you for what you did, helping me with those hunters."

"No you didn't," she said.

For the briefest of moments he looked at her with neither contempt nor mistrust.

"Had I known that Anso would find a woman so formidable, I might have asked for your help sooner."

Hawke shrugged.

"If I stopped those men from hurting you, then I'm glad to have been of service, though I can't believe that I was the first person you sought out for help."

"Hirelings mostly," he said dismissively, "And only when I could steal the coin. You are the first person I've met who has shown any true passion for my freedom. Most would have happily sold me back to Danarius."

Moira's eyes narrowed.

"I don't like slavers," she informed.

His lip curled into an almost smile, not a true smile, but close.

She smiled at that.

"Then I'm pleased to have met you then," he said, "Though I will not ask you to stand with me when I finally face Danarius."

Hawke shrugged.

"I may not have a choice; your master sounds like the type to hold a grudge. By helping you, I likely put all of us in his sights."

She leaned back in her chair.

"I will make you a deal Fenris, you try to not be so gruff all the time, maybe even call me by my name once and a while, and I will stand with you when your master comes…if he comes."

The elf's eyes narrowed.

"If he does not come, then I will track him down, I will not leave a wolf at my back, not if I can help it."

Fenris rose from his chair.

"It is getting late," he said, "I will escort you home, if that is what you desire?"

Moira smiled at that.

"Thank you very much kind ser," she said with a slight curtsey.

Again he almost smiled.

"I shall work on…being less gruff, it is the least I can do mage…I mean…Hawke."

She smiled.

"We all have to start somewhere Fenris."

 _Yes,_ she thought.

 _We all have to start somewhere._


	17. Fighting

**Chapter 17: Fighting**

"Sister?"

Moira glanced over at Bethany as the two of them made their way down the streets of Lowtown. They had only just left Gamlen's hovel and were on their way to the Hanged Man. Aveline had finally come through for them and located the last of the Flint Company Mercenaries; the remaining killers were hiding on the wounded coast.

Moira's, mouth was set in a grim line.

Today, they were going to finish what they started.

The group had scattered when they had destroyed their base on the docks, a few had fled up Sundermount, hoping to bully the Dalish into giving them supplies. Merrill had heard about this and almost stormed up the mountain herself, the little Dalish might have chosen to leave her clan, but that did not mean that she did not care what happened to them.

Hawke and company dealt with the mercs. They had fought to the last man. Now the remainder had been located…

It was time to finish their contract.

"Yeah, Sis," she said, eyes focused on their surroundings, the Hawke sisters were fairly well known in Lowtown, but there was always a chance that some drunken fool or ambitious idiot might try to make a name for himself by trying to harm them.

It was for that reason that the sisters needed to remain vigilant.

She glanced over at Bethany, her little sister seemed more…nervous today, which surprised Moira truth be told. The Templars had finally returned to their normal routine, with the exception of a patrol assigned to watch the chantry after dark, the order had pretty much gone back to business as usual. Hawke and company had lain low for a week or two, working odd jobs for the various merchants and citizens that lived near their little home. Coin was trickling in slowly, but both Varric and Hawke agreed it was time to pick up the pace.

They both wanted to get this expedition going, the longer they waited, the harder it was going to be to reach their objective.

Bethany sighed; she did not meet her sister's gaze. She kept her eyes down nervously wringing her hands.

When Bethany finally did look up, Hawke was surprised to see her sister appeared to be blushing slightly, it was hard to tell in the early morning light, but she knew her sister well enough to recognize the signs.

Her little sister smiled slightly.

"What do you think of Anders, sister?" the younger Hawke inquired.

Moira shrugged.

"He was true to his word," she said, "That's a good thing; Varric's contacts in the merchant's guild said his maps check out as genuine."

Moira smiled slightly.

"I can't wait to show those maps to Bartrand, teach him to look down on us."

"I suppose so," Bethany agreed, "But…but what do you think of Anders… _personally_ …I mean."

"He seems to be an okay sort," she said diplomatically, "Father would not have agreed with his choices involving the spirit, but…"

The younger Hawke's eyes narrowed.

"He was only trying to help a friend," Bethany interrupted her; "Surely there was no harm in that."

"I didn't say there was," Moira responded, "Though I suspect that neither Anders nor this spirit of Justice realized what it was they were getting into when they agreed to… _help_ each other."

Bethany looked away then, her posture had stiffened slightly, and her expression had turned more defensive than Moira had ever seen it.

She frowned slightly.

"Why do you ask, sister?" she inquired.

"It's nothing," Bethany said quickly.

"It is obviously **not** 'nothing,' or you would not be angry with me right now."

"I'm not angry."

"Certainly _seems_ that you are."

Bethany glanced up; her honey-brown eyes were hard and flinty.

"You should not judge him so harshly," she grumbled, "I think he is just trying to make do. I think he is trying the best he can."

Moira's frown deepened.

"I'm not judging him sis," she replied, "I'm merely commenting on what I've seen so far."

Bethany sniffed slightly and returned to silence.

Moira gave her little sister a worried look.

Why would Beth care so much what she thought of Anders? He was a good ally in a fight, and his maps were useful, but beyond that…

The elder Hawke shook her head.

She did not wish to embarrass her little sister. She could think of only _one_ reason why Bethany would have taken such offense to her comments about Anders, and to be honest, she really did not want to go there.

Moira sighed.

Once they had returned from the deep roads, there would be plenty of both time and opportunity to find a man. If that was what her little sister was after, she could think of a lot of better choices for Beth than a rogue warden, turned abomination hiding in the Undercity.

She sympathized with what Anders was trying to do, but that did not mean that she condoned his methods. Since the death of Karl Thekla, Anders had become more sullen when anyone mentioned the Templars. She tried to respect the man's grieving, but she feared that Justice might turn that grief into something else, something far more dangerous.

The elder Hawke grimaced.

That is why she chose to let Anders stay in their little group, she hoped that, fighting with others, that it would keep him balanced. She could keep the former warden chart a steadier saner course. Moira did not want any trouble, not for her or her family. If Anders did something drastic, that trouble would come.

She shook her head.

 _Having Beth making doe-eyes at him would_ _ **not**_ _help._

 _She did not want to see her little sister swept up in whatever trouble might come._

Moira shook her head.

She had failed Carver. She would not fail again…

She would not fail Bethany, not if she could help it.

They finally arrived at the Hanged Man. Varric should have been awake by now, possibly Isabela too, if the pirate had decided not to spend her night getting drunk at the Blooming Rose again. She had sent word to Anders, Fenris, Merrill, and Aveline as well.

Flint Company would be desperate after sustaining such heavy losses to Hawke and her crew; they would likely be waiting with as much strength as they could muster.

Moira's brow furrowed with determination.

They needed to be more than prepared to match that strength.

…Match it…and overcome it.

IOI

"Help!"

Moira struggled against the heavy weight, large brown paws pinned her shoulders to the ground while the large animal assaulted her.

"Help. UGH. help." she repeated, while her allies stood around either smiling with amusement, or laughing outright.

She frowned, or at least tried to during the wipes of a large wet tongue.

If she had not been pinned beneath almost fifty pounds of Mabari, she might have joined them in their mirth.

The large dog paused in its assault, the beast panted happily, as Moira tried to wipe the dog slobber from her face.

"Get off," she grumbled, trying hard to stay angry at dog, which was not an easy thing when looking into those big brown eyes.

The dog began licking her again.

"Stop," she said unable to hold back the giggles, "Mercy! Let me up, please. Have mercy."

The warhound finally obeyed, it removed its front paws from her shoulders and leapt to the ground near her, letting her finally regain her feet.

The young mage sputtered and tried to wipe the drool from her face.

The Mabari stood before her proudly panting, and wagging his stubby tail.

Moira shook her head.

The group had been hunting the Flint Company mercenaries when they had walked into a total furball of a fight. A group of bandits had disturbed a nest of giant spiders, causing the creatures to emerge and attack them. If that wasn't enough a pack of wild Mabari had been hunting nearby and had been drawn into the chaos.

Hawke and company had ended up getting caught in the middle as the fight washed over them.

The group had defended itself the best it could. Aveline, Isabela, and Fenris had kept the bandits at bay, while Varric and the mages had dealt with the animals.

Moira had no love for giant spiders or bandits, but growing up in Ferelden; she had always had a bit of soft spot for the large warhounds that had given the native Fereldans their nickname of being dog lords.

Mabari were smart, and easy to train, usually, this lot had probably come over on a boat from Ferelden, likely one that had crashed into the rocks along the wounded coast, forced to survive on their own, and they had turned feral.

Hawke felt a small amount of shame for slaying them, but did not hesitate; a Mabari warhound was as deadly as a sword, and twice as smart as its usual wielder.

She could not afford to hesitate, not if she wanted to live.

When the fight had ended, she had noticed that one young Mabari had survived, small for one of its kind clearly not fully grown yet, likely born right here on the wounded coast.

It had not been among the ones attacking them, but had been stung by one of the spiders, and left unable to move. The poor animal had whimpered as she approached fear and pain in its big brown eyes.

Moira did what she could to sooth the beast; she smiled and spoke in low soothing tones.

"It is okay," she murmured, "You will be alright. If you let me, I can heal you."

The Mabari blinked and whimpered, but it did not growl or try to raise itself into an aggressive stance.

She remembered an old Ferelden saying: A Mabari will understand.

Clearly, even having been born feral, it understood her well enough to let her approach.

Hawke laid a gentle hand on the dog's body. Healing magic flowed from her hand and into the wounded dog.

She held the dog's gaze as she did her work, not wishing to either panic or anger the poor creature. Slowly, she felt the poisons and the pain leave the young pup.

When it was done she stepped back, still smiling.

"There you are," she cooed.

"As good as new."

The Mabari regained its feet; it sniffed the air and began to pant.

Moira gave its ears a gentle rub, the dog barked and its tail began to wag.

She noticed several other Mabari watching from the underbrush, they did not seem interested in attacking, merely watching what was happening to their fellow.

She motioned to the other Mabari.

"I think your friends are waiting for you."

The Mabari did not move, it continued to stare up at Hawke with both gratitude and admiration.

She and the group went on their way. The Mabari pack disappeared back into the underbrush, finding no enemies here.

The dog she had saved did not move, not to follow the others anyway. Slowly, he began to pad his way after Hawke and company.

He followed after Moira.

Finally, he had worked up the courage to bark, and let her know he was there, when she stopped he had pounced.

And her tongue bath had begun.

Varric went to Hawke's side, looking down on the dog standing almost at attention before them.

The dwarf chuckled.

"Seems like you have made a new friend," he cackled.

Moira frowned.

"Go on," she said motioning behind them; in the direction that the other Mabari had gone "I'm sure that your friends are missing you."

The pup did not move, he simply stood their panting, waiting for her attention.

Moira rolled her eyes.

Oh Maker, she thought.

Aveline chuckled.

"You will not be getting rid of this one so easily Hawke," she said smiling, "I've been around enough Mabari to know when they have chosen someone."

The dog barked happily, almost to confirm Aveline's statement.

Moira pursed her lips.

She knew about Mabari of course, they did bond themselves to a single master, it was called imprinting and once it was done, a Mabari would follow the person until either their death or that of their master.

Hawke shook her head.

Though she could think of many uses for a Mabari, she could only imagine what Uncle Gamlen would say.

Bethany approached, a sad smile on her face, she petted the dog between the ears.

"Carver always wanted a Mabari," she said, "He would be extremely jealous if he could see that one chose you sister."

Moira winced. The memory of their little brother's death was still fresh in her mind; it had never really gone away. It remained a dull ache in her heart.

She shivered slightly.

If she refused the poor creature, it would likely die out here. She could show mercy and kill it she supposed, but that did not seem like mercy to her.

The Mabari continued to stare at her with those huge brown eyes, almost begging for her support and attention.

 _Damn it_ , she thought.

 _The dog did_ _ **not**_ _fight fair._

She shook her head and smiled in surrender.

"Come on then," she said motioning to the animal, "We still have a job to do."

The dog barked and bounced happily around her, pleased to have found a mistress and to be in service to her.

Hawke shook her head.

 _Another mouth to feed_ , she thought, though any anger died quickly when she looked into that puppy dog face.

She chuckled.

She could do worse, she supposed.

IOI

Fire exploded around them as Hawke and her allies engaged what was left of the Flint Mercenary company.

Hawke's staff spat arcane bolts at the scattering mercenaries. Bethany did her best to shield herself and the others. Aveline and Fenris waded into the mercenaries while Isabela danced around them, jabbing with her daggers and flipping back before any mercenary could get too close to her.

Varric's crossbow rained down arrows on their opponents; one by one the last remnant of Flint Company began to fall, one by one.

Moira grimaced.

Bad business, that is what this was, but these men were killers.

She tried to focus on that.

They had arrived just in time apparently. The Flint Company survivors were meeting with someone, a dwarf. From his clothing and the state of his beard, Moira would guess that the man was from the merchant's guild. Hawke had waited just long enough to see what it was the dwarf had wanted with the Flint company survivors.

Negotiations had never gotten that far.

Flint Company had finally realized that they had overstayed their welcome in Kirkwall; they realized that it was now time to get out. It was clear that they had intended to kill the dwarf and his men and take their money without even considering the job that was on offer. They had just about to fall on the dwarf and his bodyguards when Hawke and her allies began their attack.

Hawke watched as Aveline created a wall of sorts between the dwarf and the killers. Moira, by no means as skilled at shields as her sister summoned a shield to protect the merchant.

A flint company rogue had managed to slip behind them; the man might have knifed Hawke in the back if not for her new Mabari.

The young pup flung himself at the rogue, snagging his arm in powerful jaws, and using his weight to throw the attacker off balance.

The rogue screamed in agony as the dog crushed bone.

Hawke whirled to aid her protector.

The dog was not fully grown, but that did not mean that it was not dangerous, a fact that the Flint company boy was learning now.

Moira fired an arcane bolt at the rogue's face, putting him out of his misery.

Her Mabari released the body and returned to protecting his mistress.

The air flashed with magical light as Fenris' markings pulsed; the energy the lyrium unleased burned the mercenaries' skin, despite their armor. Merrill tangled their legs with summoned roots, making them easy prey for Varric and Isabela.

Anders and Bethany fought almost side by side, she protecting him with reinforced shields while he bolstered her with spells to keep her strength from flagging.

She blushed when he glanced her way, a hint of a smile on his face.

Moira rolled her eyes and continued the fight.

Finally, the last Flint company soldier went down.

Aveline groaned and rolled her shoulder, a bit of blood leaked from beneath her shoulder plate.

Hawke went to her side, her hand already glowing with healing magic.

The dwarven merchant rose, brushing himself off and cursing his bodyguards for being useless. The guards, probably neither over the age twenty, their army shiny and new, clearly unused, looked unsurprisingly crestfallen.

This had probably been their first mission, she thought, normally bodyguard duty was easy pay, but not when you were meeting with a group of desperate mercs trying to flee for their lives.

They had probably come cheap, those guards.

Moira sneered down at the merchant.

You get what you pay for, she thought.

Hopefully the dwarf would realize that.

"Out of your element dwarf?" she asked.

The merchant coughed. He glared at his hirelings.

"Can't get a decent blade for a bargain anymore," he growled under his breath.

Varric, who had come to stand next to Hawke snorted.

"Well, you get what you pay for," he said giving voice to what Hawke had thought.

The merchant shook his head, though he brightened at the sight of Hawke and her allies as they picked over what was left of Flint Company.

He smiled broadly.

"Opportunities abound," he said, "I came here looking for skilled professionals, perhaps I've found some."

His grin widened.

"Yes, you are what a men needs, a skilled professional.

Hawke crossed her arms over her chest.

"You can start making sense any moment now," She said.

The dwarf laughed lightly.

"Of course, where are my manners," he said bowing.

"Javaris Tintop is the name, merchant and investor" he said, "I've been looking for skilled people to help me court the Qunari."

Varric gave him an arched look.

" _Court the Qunari_? Maker **think** of the children?" he said dryly.

Hawke giggled.

She had no way of knowing that this would be the moment that she would first become known to the Qunari and their Arishok.

Had she known…?

…she might have done things very different.


	18. The Qunari

**Chapter 18: The Qunari**

" _So," Cassandra said coldly, "_ _ **that**_ _is how it began."_

 _Varric shrugged._

" _Yeah," he said, "I suppose so."_

 _She stood a little straighter, her eyes shining with victory._

" _So the Champion_ _ **did**_ _work for the Qunari."_

 _Varric snorted with amusement, a simple gesture that did little to endure him to the Seeker._

 _Her frown returned, returned…and deepened._

" _Did I say something amusing?" she demanded._

 _The dwarf chuckled._

" _Two things," he said with a grin, "First: Hawke was not working with the Qunari, she took a job for Javaris Tintop, and second…"_

 _He shook his head._

" _Second, the Qunari do_ _ **not**_ _hire anybody. I think it is against the will of the Qun or something like that."_

 _Varric sighed._

" _You are still looking for collusion where none exists, Seeker."_

 _Cassandra glared at him._

" _You can't expect me to believe that everything that happened was all a matter of coincidence."_

" _I wouldn't call it coincidence," he admitted, "Not exactly, what happened to Hawke was a combination of luck, good or bad, take your pick, coincidence, and, depending on who you ask, being in the_ _ **right**_ _place at the_ _ **wrong**_ _time."_

 _The Seeker gave him an arched look._

" _How would you describe Hawke's relationship with the Qunari?"_

" _No different than most, I suspect," he replied, "Hawke…the one thing you have to remember Seeker, is that Hawke was not trying to make waves. She tried to stay on the good side of everyone she came across, Maker knows, with the Gallows right across the harbor; she did need to make any more enemies."_

 _Cassandra gave him a hard look._

" _She feared that someone might turn her in?"_

 _The dwarf frowned._

" _It was the one thing that she and Bethany truly feared. Neither of them wanted to end up in the Gallows…"_

 _The Seeker's eyes narrowed._

" _Then how did…?"_

 _Varric raised his hand, stopping her question._

" _We're starting to get ahead of ourselves," he said, "you asked about the Qunari, and Javaris Tintop."_

 _The Seeker pursed her lips, he thought he even heard her growl in the back of her throat, but otherwise, she remained sociable._

" _Tell me what this dwarven merchant wanted with the Qunari?"_

 _Varric chuckled._

" _He wanted what every dwarf wants from the Qunari. Ever since those ox-men first arrived in Tevinter the dwarven merchant's guild has been hot to get their hands on the Qunari explosive powder, what the Qunari call Gaatlock."_

 _The dwarf shook his head._

" _I was on a ship once; it had fallen under attack by a Qunari dreadnaught. I saw what those cannons of theirs can do to another ship at sea, but even before that, I thought that it was a bad idea for other people to get their hands on the stuff."_

 _Varric sighed._

" _People are dangerous enough without everyone having the ability to blow shit up. Hawke never cared for the stuff either."_

 _The Seeker arched her eyebrow._

" _And why was that," she asked._

" _Mainly, because it does not require any skill to gain the ability to use it," he answered, "Hawke trained for years under her father to gain the ability to throw fire and explode shit with it. He not only taught her how, but he taught her when she should."_

 _Varric smiled slightly._

" _She told me once: Varric, it takes a lot of discipline to use the abilities that I have. It is a terrible gift, both a privilege, and a heavy burden to bear."_

 _His smile widened slightly at that memory, Hawke had been more than a little drunk that night. She was a very cute drunk…_

 _His smile faltered._

 _He had long ago learned not to go where that kind of thinking led. It had been better for Hawke…_

… _Better for him too…probably._

 _Maybe._

 _He sighed._

" _It is no big secret that a mage needs to train for years to use their powers wisely; that is why a skilled mage doesn't lose his or her temper and blow up their loved ones. The thought of anyone having that kind of power without the wisdom to use it wisely, that scares the shit out of me Seeker, and it scared Hawke too."_

 _Cassandra crossed her arms._

" _Considering what happened in Kirkwall. I would not call the mages there disciplined."_

 _Varric glared at that statement._

" _Even that was carried out with intent. What happened was horrible, but that did not mean that the parties involved did not know exactly what they were doing, at least those that knew the whole plan anyway."_

 _Cassandra's frown deepened, he thought she was going to press him on that point, but instead she decided to return to his story._

" _Yet, you were still willing to do what Tintop asked?"_

" _We did not know then, what we know now," he admitted, "And…we needed the coin"_

 _Cassandra snorted._

 _Varric chose not to comment further._

" _Tell me about what you did for Tintop."_

 _Varric shrugged._

" _Why not, Javaris had been hoping to impress the Qunari by dealing with the Tal Vashoth outlaws that were hiding outside of Kirkwall. He trusted_ _ **us**_ _to deal with that little problem. We followed Tintop's leads to a cave on the wounded coast._

 _Varric smirked._

" _That is when things got interesting."_

IOI

Fire exploded from Moira's fingertips as they fought their way into the main chamber of the Tal Vashoth cavern. It had been hard going, the renegade Qunari were putting up a bit of a fight, at least two dozen warriors swarmed down walkways and over rocky outcroppings.

Hawke rained down fire on them.

Smoke and battle cries filled the chamber; the young mage realized she needed to be careful, less she cause as much harm to her allies as she did their opponents.

The rest of the group did their best to stay together. Aveline and Isabela defended Varric and the other mages as best they could, while Hawke did her best to keep their enemies from doing something surprising. Fenris darted in and out, using his body like a dagger, sliding into weak spots as they took shape where the Qunari tried to organize into a proper fighting force. His markings would flash as his great sword cut the air, signaling the death of another enemy warrior, but more continued to flow into the cavern and more after them.

The young mage shook her head.

These Qunari might have been outlaws, but that did not mean that they were disorganized. She had expected them to be a pack of rowdy, disorganized deserters, but they were quickly proving themselves to be anything but that.

These creatures were nothing like the Qunari the Templars had caught in that farmhold outside of Lothering, that creature, that Sten as he called himself, at least looked human, he had been larger of course, but these Qunari were clearly not human, and unlike the Sten, they show any interest in surrendering. The gray skinned horned giants were not only strong but they fought like a well-oiled machine. Spears flew from range, keeping her warriors busy, while melee fighters charged with short spears and great swords. These rebels might have left their military lives behind, but they had not abandoned the fighting styles that they had perfected during those lives.

She shook her head.

Murdering thieves, that is what the Qunari deserter they had met along the road called these men. That warrior had decided not to continue down this path, he had been on his way to Kirkwall, apparently to take up the mercenary life. She had offered him coin to help them, but he had refused, not wishing to throw away anymore of his honor by hunting his own kind.

She could understand that. She had no desire to harm other mages if she could help it. She understood what other apostates went through, between hiding from the Templars, and just trying to keep a low-profile.

No, she, like the soon to be Qunari mercenary, would not hunt her own kind, not if she could help it.

She ducked, barely avoiding impalement by a spear. She threw an arcane bolt at its flinger, but the large rebel dodged far too quickly.

Hawke frowned.

Maybe it would have been better had they been able to hire that Qunari after all.

Moira tried to locate the leader of the group, not an easy thing with the battle shifting so chaotically. She had seen one of the outlaws wearing a helmet and cloak, but that had been at the start of the battle, since then, things had been too confusing to find him again, and despite their successes, the fight was starting to turn against them. They were doing well, they had had surprise on their side, but now her allies were tiring, soon superior numbers would start to turn the tide.

There was a flash of light near where Aveline had been engaging one of the warriors. A globe of pure lightning shone into existence, bolts of energy danced along Aveline's armor flinging her back. Moira put a shield around her friend, but no sooner has she brought it up, she found herself under attack by another of the large warriors.

She had been forced to fall back, spinning her staff defensively. The Qunari jabbed at her with his spear, snarling in their foreign tongue.

Surprisingly, it was Fenris who came to her rescue, the Tevinter elf charged the Qunari warrior, causing him to whirl around and defend himself. It was all the help that Moira Hawke needed.

She raised her hand and spoke the words. A blast of freezing cold emerged from her palm; the warrior froze to death with barely a word, likely not even noticing what was happening until it was too late.

Moira did not have time to thank her companion. She realized the need to locate the source of the lightning spell, in such close quarters…if such an attack happened again, it was likely that none of them would escape.

She threw another fireball, lighting up the gloom. The Qunari mage stuck to the shadows, a warrior standing at its side barking orders.

The sight of the mage chilled Hawke to the bone.

It seemed that the Tal Vashoth cared even less for their mages than anyone else did.

The creature's neck and shoulders were almost buried under a heavy collar; chains linked the device to the mage's wrists. The giant's face was all but hidden by some kind of blinders, and its horns had been cut off almost to the skull.

Yet the mage continued to attack. Already Moira could feel magic starting to build around the bound giant.

Whatever spell the mage might have unleashed would have likely devastated the group. Fortunately, Moira was not the only one who had noticed his presence.

Anders and Bethany, still fighting together, noticed the mage as well. Bethany dropped her defensive shields, and joined Anders in casting offensive spells against their magical adversary. Neither would have stood much of a chance on their own, but together they unleased a magical onslaught that even the Qunari mage could not counter.

Bethany's fire burned it, forcing it to abandon its own spells, once that was done it had been easy for Anders to catch their enemy in a crushing prison of force magic. The handler tried to attack the pair, but Moira struck again, her own spells ended the life of the warrior defending the mage, and his charge soon followed.

The Qunari mage died with barely a whimper, crush beneath the weight of Anders' magic. The loss of their magical ally turned the tide of battle once again back in the favor of Hawke and her companions.

Isabela managed to catch the Tal Vashoth leader, her daggers finding first his spine and then his throat. The remaining Qunari tried to flee, but Moira and the others' magic made quick work of them.

Silence finally reigned in the dark cave, only the sound of a few lingering fires remained.

Hawke sighed heavily.

The deal was done.

Isabela limped over the body of the dead Qunari commander; she nearly collapsed on Merrill who managed to hold her friend upright.

Moira went over to tend to Aveline, the soon to be guard captain, sat on a set of old wooden steps. Her armor scorched from the Qunari mage's attack.

Hawke did what she could to heal her friend. She was pleased to see that, beyond a few cuts, scrapes, and bruises, they were all going to walk out of here alive.

Fenris was bleeding from a cut underneath his breast plate. He had resisted Anders' attempts to heal him at first, but a stern look from Hawke killed those objections.

The elf submitted, but he still glared at the group's resident healer.

Hawke looked up at Aveline, the guard captain was clearly tired, but she had a pleased expression on her face.

"The nobles have been complaining about these bastards for the last few weeks," She said, "They will be pleased to learn that the Wounded Coast is clear of them."

She smiled slightly.

"Good job, Hawke," she said.

Moira smiled slightly.

"Well done, indeed."

IOI

"About time you got here, I've been waiting for hours."

Moira glared at Javaris. After everything that had happened, she was not in the mood to deal with the dwarf's attitude.

If he wanted this deal so badly, she thought, maybe he should have been fighting with us.

She frowned, but held her tongue.

Though it would have been interesting to see how long the merchant would have lasted.

She had travelled to the Qunari compound on the Kirkwall docks with only Varric, Fenris, and Merrill in tow. Aveline and Isabela still needed healing for their injuries, Bethany and Anders had taken them both down to the healer's clinic in Darktown to rest.

Moira shivered as she looked around them. She did not spend much time down here on the docks, parts of its were rougher than the undercity, but here, behind the walls the Viscount had offered the Qunari, things were something else, perhaps…something worse.

Giant gray warriors stood all around them, Cold dark eyes watched the outsides were either contempt or barely hidden hostility. Unlike the Tal Vashoth they had faced in the tunnels, these Qunari all wore the diamond shape symbol of their people. Red paint adorned many a bare gray chest, marking the warrior as a follower of the Qun.

Hawke tried to hide her fear, though she could not completely escape the idea that they had walked into a lion's den. She had thought it better that only a few of them come to meet with Javaris, she had not wanted to risk provoking the Qunari.

Part of her was starting to regret that choice.

They made their way to a dais, surrounded by the large warriors, a great metal chair cut into the shape of two dragons' head sat in the center. Javaris grinned proudly as he approached the closest warrior.

"Summon your Arishok," he said with a pleased smile, "The deal is done."

The warrior said nothing; he simply turned and called out something in his harsh language.

No sooner had he finished speaking, that the Qunari closest to the chair began to part.

Hawke only barely managed to stifle a gasp.

This…she realized…could only be the Qunari leader, the one Javaris had called the Arishok.

She could not imagine it being anyone else.

The lead Qunari stood almost a head taller than his largest warriors. Like them his skin was painted in the markings of his people, unlike them he wore large thick shoulder pads, adorned with the diamond symbol of the Qunari faith. Horns as long as Moira's arm jutted out from the sides of the great warrior's head, even from a distance, she could still make out his eyes, dark and foreboding, the color of dried blood.

He sat on the great metal chair, regarding his guests with a mix of curiosity and disdain.

It was all Moira could do to keep from quailing under those harsh dark eyes.

Before Javaris could speak, Fenris stepped forward. Hawke was surprised to hear him speak the words of the Qunari. She did not know what was said, but from the slight widening the Qunari leader's eyes, even he had been surprised.

"The Qun from an elf," he said in a deep commanding voice.

The warrior shook his head.

"The madness of this place."

Moira looked over at Fenris.

"Did that help," she asked.

"We'll see," the elf replied.

The Arishok leaned back, his eyes taking in Hawke and her companions for the first time.

The mage shuddered.

It was not the most pleasant of experiences.

The dwarven merchant failed to notice.

"Great Arishok," Javaris said proudly, "I'm here to report that your hated Tal Vashoth have been slain, one and all."

The dwarf glanced over at Moira.

That is correct?"

She nodded.

"Yes," Javaris said smiling, "Yes it is."

The Arishok snorted, but did not respond.

Javaris' smile faded slightly.

"I've come to open up negotiations for the explosive powder."

The Arishok's eyes narrowed. He glared at the dwarf like he was something unpleasant that had come from the bottom of his foot. When the Qunari leader spoke, it was one word tinged with anger.

"No."

Javaris blanched.

"He is not getting it," he murmured to Hawke, "Have your chatty elf say something else."

Hawke glanced over at Fenris. She hoped that he would not take offense to the dwarf calling him **her** elf.

"Any suggestions that might help here?" she asked.

Fenris' ears twitched.

"Qunari do not abandon a debt," he stepped forward, and addressed the leader in a calm yet authorative voice.

"I humbly request clarification from the Arishok."

The Qunari leader's mouth twitched up, not quite a smile, but perhaps the sign of some amusement.

"I have a growing lack of disrespect for you," he said addressing Moira, "You may be a bas, but at least you keep good company."

The Arishok glared down at Javaris.

"The dwarf had no deal with us," he growled, "He invented a task to try and prove his worth, even though he has none."

The Qunari snorted like an angry predator.

"As I told him before, the gaatlock is not for sale, it will only be dispensed to our enemies, in the traditional fashion."

Fenris nodded grimly.

"Then we have involved ourselves in something that was not our affair."

The elf looked down at Javaris.

"Do you wish us to kill this dwarf?"

The merchant's eyes widened.

"Wait! What now!"

The Arishok snorted at the very idea of it.

"If you faced Tal Vashoth, then your blade is too good for him, just as ours were too good to end his life during his last journey here."

The Arishok sighed, a mixture of disgust and acceptance.

"The dwarf may live."

Moira blinked, not really sure she was following all that was going on here.

"But you have to sell," Javaris almost whined, "That powder is an incredible product, people want it."

The Arishok growled low, and rose from his chair.

"As I have said, the gaatlock is not for sale."

He glared down at the merchant.

"You should go," he said pointing to the exit.

"While the will the Qun still allows it."

Moira said nothing, part of her was angry, it was clear that Javaris' deal had only been a deal in his own mind. The Qunari were not going to let him have the powder, which likely meant no coin for them.

Of course, there was more to life than coin, the fact that Qunari were willing to let them go, should not have been dismissed so quickly.

Hawke looked down at Javaris; the dwarven merchant was almost speechless from what the Arishok had told him, that and the fact that they were surrounded by no less than fifty or sixty Qunari warriors.

"We should go Javaris," she said, "There is nothing for us here."

The dwarf glared up at them; perhaps he thought that they should try to fight, to take the Qunari powder.

Hawke frowned.

If that is what he was waiting for, he would be waiting a very long time.

Hawke had no desire to get killed over this.

The dwarf glared at the silent Qunari, and their implacable leader.

Finally, he spun and headed for the exit.

"You are a confusing people," he spat.

Then he looked over at Hawke.

"And you…your fired."

The dwarf stormed out of the Qunari compound, muttering obscenities under his breath.

Moira glanced up at the Arishok. The large warrior continued to stare down at her, pinning her with a cold stare from his dark red eyes.

Finally, the Qunari leader sighed and sat down.

"Be gone, human," he said with a tired sigh.

"There is no coin for you here."

Moira did not hesitate. She followed after Javaris.

The Arishok was right she realized.

There was no coin here.


	19. Family Matters

**Chapter 19: Family Matters**

Moira slouched down in her chair in _The Hanged Man_ , a half finished mug of ale before her. She was currently staring into the foul smelling brew, thinking about just what they were going to do next, and was it really worth it taking another drink.

The mage shook her head.

Since leaving Athenril's service, it seemed like every move they made was to take two steps forward and then three steps back. The Qunari job had been a bust, and though they were owed future coin by Sebastian Vael who could say when exactly they would see it.

Moira sighed heavily.

It was getting very hard not to give up hope. They had coin saved up, sure, but not near enough to get the expedition off the ground. Not all of the coin could simply be stashed away for the future, there were always things to buy, food, replacement armor, and other supplies that made life here in Lowtown bearable.

In addition her mother still remained in a fearful depression. Sometimes she managed to snap out of it, but those moments of peace were becoming fewer and farther between. Leandra Hawke worried all the time about her two girls. The fact that they would be going into the deep roads only seemed to compound that fear.

Moira had gotten the idea earlier that morning to take mother to visit the family estate. Technically it wasn't theirs, not yet, but Aveline had not been hard to convince to allow a short visit, for no other reason than to remind Leandra what they were all striving for.

The mage smiled slightly at the memory.

The last time the Hawke children had visited the estate, they had not gone beyond the vault, spending the bulk of their time clearing the wine cellar out of the slavers that had infested their family home. Much of the place had been sealed off since Gamlen had lost it, but a bit of the old grandeur still remained.

Their mother had a look of almost child-like joy as she walked into the main hall. The slavers had done little to damage the place, thank the Maker, and for a brief moment, Leandra Hawke almost seemed like her old self again, or as close to it as she could be since their arrival here in Kirkwall.

She spoke of always wanting to return here, of wanting to introduce her children to their grandparents. How it might have been difficult at first, but she was confident that Lord and Lady Amell would have loved them, all three of them…

Moira winced.

It always seemed to go back to Carver. His death remained a barrier between Moira and her mother. Leandra Hawke said that she no longer blamed her, but on some small level, some of that old anger still remained.

The mage pursed her lips, resisted the urge to snarl in frustration.

It was not like she was not trying to get them all out of here.

It was not like she was not trying to make their lives better!

She sat back in her chair, wishing that she had some idea how to speed their current endeavor along.

Laughter drew her attention.

Bethany sat with Merrill and Isabela, Bethany seemed to enjoy being with anyone who was not her older sister. In those brief moments she could forget her fear of the Templars and be just another citizen of Kirkwall.

Moira was extremely grateful for that. Plus, if Bethany was here, she was not pining over Anders, which was a good thing in the elder Hawke's mind.

Bethany deserved better.

She thought about talking to Anders about it, to try and convince him that he should not try and pursue anything with her sister. Whether he would be receptive of such a request was hard to say.

The Healer of Darktown was not very predictable.

Something Isabela said made Bethany laugh again, while Merrill's elven ears dipped slightly as she blushed.

The three of them made a very unlikely trio. Pirate, Dalish and Apostate, she could thing of nowhere in Kirkwall where you could likely have found a more diverse group.

Moira, not wanting to disturb her sister's fun did not even try to go and join them.

Of course that did not mean that she couldn't listen.

Magic did have some advantages.

She pretended to be lost in thought while she reached out with her magic, using it to drink in the sound of their conversation, back ground noise fell away as the spell took effect.

"What were you before you became a pirate?" Bethany asked.

"I had a husband," Isabela answered, the lightness in her voice sounding a little bit more forced on this particular topic.

"He did not beat me," she added, "I suppose that was a good thing."

Bethany sighed slightly.

"I can't imagine what it would be like… to be married," Bethany sighed morosely.

Isabela chuckled.

"Don't give it another thought, Sweet thing," she said, "Marriage is not for everyone. Maker knows; it certainly wasn't for me. Of course, I wasn't Luis' wife, not really, I was a trophy; a status symbol he could show off to all his friends."

The pirate shook her head.

"No," she said flatly, "I did not have what I would call a marriage."

"I had one," Merrill said in a small voice.

Both of her companions looked at her.

Merrill blushed at the sudden attention.

"I had a marriage, well…a bonding…it would have been one…had Theron not gotten sick."

Isabela smiled.

"Well…at least one of us had a shot at domestic bliss, if there is such a thing," the pirate chuckled.

She leaned in smiling conspiratorially.

"Tell us about him Kitten," she said, "Tell us about your strong strapping husband?"

Merrill ducked her head her pale ears were starting to turn a bright pink.

"Theron was the son of the Keeper before Marethari," she began, "I would not call him strapping…not exactly anyway, but he had a nice form. He wasn't born with magic, so he could never be First, not like most in the clan would have wanted. I was apprenticed to the Keeper during one of the clan gatherings, made her first right then and there."

Merrill shook her head.

"Some in the clan did not agree with that, they felt that Marethari should have made an exception. Theron did not mind though, he was happy being a hunter for the clan, doing what he could to keep us safe and fed."

The Dalish sighed.

"We quarreled when we were younger. I thought he resented me being made First. He was always doing things to distract me, to pull me away from my studies. The Keeper would chase him away, but he would always come back."

A hint of a smile came to her lips.

"As we grew older, things started to change. He still spent a lot of time trying to frustrate me, but the way he did it, the way he looked at me changed. When we both got our Vallaslin things changed even more…"

Bethany smiled slightly.

"He had been trying to get your attention, which was why he spent so much time teasing you?"

The Dalish' blush darkened, and she nodded.

"It was during a stop in our summer camping spot that he finally told me how he felt. I had been out gathering herbs when he sprang out of the shadows, scared me half to death."

She shook her head.

"He spoke…so sweetly to me that day, after he apologized for scaring me that is, he offered me a single wild flower and asked me to be his mate."

Isabela snorted.

"I hope you did not give in too quickly, Kitten," she said, ""Men don't deserve to have it that easy."

The Dalish smiled.

"I responded coyly at first, pretending to have no interest in him at all. Which was not entirely true, I…I had noticed him, more and more as we had finally reached adulthood.

The Dalish brushed her lips with long slender fingers.

She shuddered slightly.

"We kissed for the first time by that spring, and finally bonded there a few weeks later."

Bethany blinked.

"Bonded?" she asked.

Merrill gave her a sly look.

"We did…dirty things," she said.

Bethany's eyes widened.

"Oh," she said.

Both Merrill and Isabela giggled.

"Sounds like you had that boy wrapped around your little finger Kitten," the pirate said.

Merrill practically beamed.

"We were happy…for a while."

Bethany smiled and sighed.

"That is so romantic," she cooed.

Merrill's ears drooped with sadness.

"When Theron got sick, when he left our clan, those were the most empty days of my life…I…I…"

Isabela winced.

"I'm sorry kitten," she said, "I did not mean to bring up any bad memories."

Merrill sniffled and sat up.

"We had good memories too," she said, "I'm trying to hold onto those. I…"

Hawke winced as she withdrew her spell. She looked down at her brew and felt like an interloper.

It was easy to forget that she was not the only one suffering, that she was not the only one who had lost family.

It was easy to sit here and feel sorry for herself, but that would not help her or her friends.

If she wanted to get her family out of Lowtown, then she needed to get off her ass and do it, sitting in a bar and crying into her ale would not make things better.

"Buy you a drink, pretty lady?"

She glanced up, preparing to tell whoever it was to get lost, when she saw Varric standing their holding to mugs.

The dwarf's smile killed any angry response where it stood.

She smiled back, and nodded gratefully.

"I can't believe you drink the swill here," she said taking the mug from his hand.

"I don't," he said with a shrug, "I keep my own stock, all that Corff asks that I drink it only from his tumblers when I'm down here so that no one knows the good shit is upstairs."

The dwarf chuckled.

"No point in drawing more attention to myself."

Hawke smiled and took a sip, the liquor on her tongue tasted like brandy, she had had a thimble of brandy occasionally when she had a cold, but the stuff they had in Lothering was nothing compared to this."

"It is good," she said.

"I should certainly hope so," the dwarf said, "I don't pay the wine merchant to sell me stuff I could get from Corff."

She chuckled and took another drink.

Varric slid in next to her, working on his own tumbler.

Hawke gave him a sly smile.

"You know," she said, "Bianca is going to get terribly jealous, you sitting down and having a drink with me."

Varric smirked, and lightly tapped the stock of the crossbow still in in its holster on his back.

"Bianca knows I'm a bit of a flirt Hawke," he said, "she might not like it all the time, but she understands what is good for business."

Moira's eyes narrowed.

"Speaking of business," she said, "I think we are going to have to drum up some, and soon."

Varric's smile faltered.

"We have not had the best of luck lately that is for sure. Fortunately, Bartrand has been too busy throwing his weight around at the guild to start worrying what might happen if we don't get the expedition of the ground."

Hawke's mouth became a grim line.

"We're going to have to take a few risks, I fear," she said, "Which likely means hitting up the Hightown Merchants, see if they have anything they need doing."

She frowned.

"The pay will likely be better, but at the same time…"

"At the same time," Varric said, "There is greater a chance that the Templars might hear of you if you start working the nobles."

Hawke winced.

"Exactly," she said, "We have been lucky so far, but…"

The door to the Hanged Man opened and Aveline strode in. Some of the patrons shifted uncomfortably at the sight of a woman in guard armor, but their allies quickly calmed them down.

Aveline was not unknown here in Lowtown. She might be training to be the Guard Captain, but the toughs that frequented the Hanged Man recognized that as long as they caused no problems here, she would not cause any problems here.

The guardswoman made straight for Hawke and Varric, both mage and dwarf glanced up at her.

"Hello Aveline," Hawke said with a grin, "what seems to be the problem."

"I heard something today," she said in a hushed voice, "Figured I might as well pass it along."

She sat down at the table.

"The Seneschal doesn't want the guard involved, at the Viscount's request apparently."

Aveline frowned.

"But something needs to be done, and soon."

Hawke's eyes lit up.

The Viscount, she thought.

 _Had she not just been saying they needed to take the risk and take on a few more high profile jobs?_

 _Working for the Viscount would likely be dangerous…_

… _but it could also be_ _ **extremely**_ _profitable._

She leaned in closer.

"What's the job Aveline?" she asked.

"Yeah," Varric said, "Don't leave us in suspense."

Aveline leaned in closer.

"This is a personal matter, for the royal family," she said, "Only a few discreet people have been told about it, but since you are my friend, I figure that you could use the coin on offer as well."

"What is it?" Hawke repeated.

The guard sighed.

"Viscount Dumar's son is missing," she said, "It is feared that he has been kidnapped…"

Aveline took a deep breath.

"It is feared that he has been kidnapped by the Qunari."

Hawke blinked.

She took a few seconds to process that.

 _The Viscount's son…kidnapped by the Qunari._

She took a deep breath and mustered her courage.

 _Well…she had been looking for something_ _ **big**_ _…_

The mage shook her head.

 _Careful what you wish for._


	20. A Simple Rescue

**Chapter 20: A Simple Rescue**

Once again, Hawke and her allies found themselves making their way down the Wounded Coast. They were moving fast. From what the Seneschal had told them they did not have much time.

They were not the only ones out looking for the Viscount's son.

Moira's thoughts were distracted this morning, her memory of her meeting earlier with Seneschal Bran still fresh in her mind. It was the second time that she had met the man, even though he had all but ignored her during their first encounter, back then he had been focused entirely on Aveline and the fact that she was to assume the job of guard captain, now, now…

Moira was still trying to digest what she had learned in the Viscount's Keep, and did her best to make sense of it.

They likely would not have made it past Bran's guards if not for Aveline. The Guard Captain vouched for Hawke and the rest of their companions. Bran, Aveline had informed her, wished to keep this matter as private as possible, not an easy thing considering it involved Kirkwall's royal family.

Aveline had done her best to convince the man.

"I've known Hawke for a while now, Messere," she had said, "She will do what is needed both for young Saemus, and for Kirkwall."

The Seneschal had wrinkled his nose at the sight of her; he looked upon Moira and her friends like they were some unappetizing thing he had seen in the market place. She did her best to ignore those looks, and focus on what this job meant.

They needed gold, and the Viscount's office had more than enough to spare. Provided they kept the details of what was to come as quiet as possible.

Bran had made it plain that he required her to be discreet in carrying out this mission. The Viscount's son Saemus was missing, and there had been talk that he had last been seen with a Qunari. The Viscount's reaction to the news was understandable. Moira might not have moved in noble circles, but it was no secret that many in Hightown were displeased with the Viscount for allowing the Arishok and his men into the city.

The only question now was, was the boy a prisoner or something else. Seneschal Bran had seemed…hesitant to answer that question. He had been worried that Moira and her friends might have heard something about what had happened, but Moira had nothing to tell him.

Her answer appeased the man, though he continued to stress the need for Hawke and her allies to keep this matter to themselves. According to the Seneschal, the Viscount could not afford to have this matter grow any worse than it already was; they needed to keep it private.

 _Private_ embarrassment, the man said, was preferable to **public** embarrassment.

Though she had never really spent any time speaking with the boy, Aveline told Hawke all she knew about Saemus Dumar, the Viscount's son. A young lad, perhaps a few years younger than Bethany, Saemus was said to be a bookish sort. Yet, he was not seen regularly in the keep, preferring to be off on his own wandering the wilds around Kirkwall. A dangerous thing considering he was an only child, the Viscount's only heir.

Many on the royal court were not…impressed with the boy. He would be Viscount one day, and yet did nothing to secure either allies or political advantages when that time came. No doubt, the Viscount was worried for that reason.

 _Private embarrassment is preferable to public embarrassment._

It sounded odd, but Moira thought she understood what the man meant. The Viscount preferred rumor over hard evidence. The Viscount's office could handle the rumor of the Viscount's son being with the Qunari, but it would be better if there was no hard evidence proving that fact. The ruler of Kirkwall had enemies, all rulers did.

The Viscount preferred that those enemies not have anything tangible to use against him.

That is where discretion came into play.

That is where Moira and her allies came in.

Aveline moved at her side. Hawke was grateful to have her old friend with them. They had seen little of Aveline since she had accepted her promotion, which was likely as much to their benefit as it was Aveline's.

The Hawkes had always preferred not to draw attention to themselves, attention could lead to them being noticed by the Templars, that is why they had always needed to be discreet, which is what Bran wanted anyway.

Yes…Hawke knew a great deal about being discreet.

"We need to move fast Hawke," the guard captain said, "If the Winters find Saemus before we do…"

Hawke's brow furrowed.

They had encountered the Winters' commander earlier. Serah Ginnis had been leaving Bran's office about the time they had arrived. They were a mercenary company out of Nevarra, and had somehow gotten wind of what was going on.

The group had been trying to establish a presence here in Kirkwall, retrieving the Viscount's son would go a long way to helping accomplish that. Ginnis did not strike Hawke as the type of woman who handled rescue missions well; the woman was apparently bringing her whole company along with her.

Moira frowned slightly.

They were good, her little group, but they would not be able to match a company of hardened mercenaries. If the Winters found Saemus Dumar first, it would not be easy to extract him from them.

Hawke picked up the pace.

Aveline was right.

They needed to hurry.

IOI

It was Aveline that finally allowed them to locate the boy.

The Guard Captain was not the type of woman to ignore possible threats. She had posted scouts outside the city since taking office. The Qunari conducted patrols of their own along the Wounded Coast and near Sundermount, and she had wanted to make sure she knew not only the routes, but if the foreigners were establishing any caches or outposts.

Aveline was no fool. The Qunari were a foreign army camped within the walls of the city, they may have claimed innocence, but that did not stop the guard captain from being prepared.

Armed with this knowledge, Hawke and coming began checking the Qunari patrol routes. One led to a small strip of land surrounded by high rocks on all sides, but looking out over the sea. The area there was a perfect place to set up a camp, smugglers and raiders had been using it for years. The Qunari had taken note of this and moved in with no resistance to the locals.

It was here that they found Saemus Dumar, the Qunari…

…and the winters.

Moira almost sneered.

They may have been professionals, but the Winters struck her as extremely sloppy. They had set up guard posts, but the men who were supposed to be watching the road were watching what was going on with the Viscount's son instead. Varric led Bethany, Merrill, and Anders into the underbrush to get behind these men while Hawke and the rest of her team approached. Not a single winter tried to stop their approach, they were only a few feet from Saemus by the time anyone had noticed them.

Aveline shook her head.

"Amateurs," she said under her breath.

Hawke stifled the urge to giggle, a giggle that died quickly when she saw what the Winters had done.

Ginnis, the woman from the Viscount's Keep stood before Saemus Dumar. The dark haired boy in the fancy clothes had fallen to his knees in the sand, but it was clear that Ginnis was not threatening him.

Saemus' full attention was on the large gray body laying in the sand.

Moira assumed this was the Qunari that the Viscount's people had been so worried about.

The boy glared up at his Ginnis, his would-be rescuer.

"Ashaad," he gasped.

When he looked up at Ginnis again, his eyes were filled with fury.

"You…you **Vashedan bitch**!"

The mercenary merely laughed.

"Is that one of their words," she said motioning towards the corpse.

She gave him a look of pure disgust.

"See, this is why you must be dragged home, you are playing too nice with these things."

Ginnis sneered at him.

"I've bet you have gone farther than that, haven't you brat."

It was at that moment that Moira stepped out into the open, her friends staying close at hand.

"Little rough for a rescue, don't you think," she said dryly.

Ginnis turned to her with a cold smile.

"Competition?" She purred, "Well…you are too late, the Winters, and I, have already claimed this prize."

If Saemus took exception to being considered a prize he did not show it.

He looked upon Hawke.

"Serah," he said, "If I must return to the keep then so be it, but I will not let these…these murderers be rewarded for their butchery today."

Ginnis snarled at him, drawing her dagger.

To Hawke's surprise the boy did not even flinch.

Perhaps there was some steel in his spine after all.

"Spoiled little shit," Ginnis spat, "I should cut out your tongue, and charge extra for bringing you back quiet."

Aveline stepped forward.

"There is no need for any further bloodshed," she said, "I'm the Captain of the Kirkwall Guard, release the boy to us and I will see that you receive exactly what you deserve."

Ginnis sneered at her.

"We will get what we were promised bitch, and more."

She smirked at Hawke, drawing her other dagger.

"AS for you," she said, "The rest of the boys will be back shortly, but I could use a little entertainment while we wait."

Ginnis lunged at Moira. The woman was fast; Hawke had to give her that.

The mage however…was faster.

She used her staff to parry the woman's charge.

It was at that moment that Varric and the rest of their range fighters opened up on the winters, fire ice and arrows rained down on the mercenaries.

Moira stayed close to Saemus wrapping the boy in a protective magical shield. Aveline and Fenris struck at Ginnis' bodyguards while Hawke engaged the woman herself.

Hawke's eyes narrowed.

She had spent a lot of time in the last year, working with the seedier elements of Kirkwall. She had had some encounters with the local mercenaries while in Athenril's employ. Most of those mercenaries, though motivated by profit, still clung to some sense of honor. They honored the deals they made, and did not go out of their way to harm innocents.

From what little she had seen of Ginnis and her Winters they did not do that.

The Winters were scum.

Hawke glared at the woman.

They had enough scum in Kirkwall.

The mage's brow furrowed.

She would make sure there would not be anymore.

IOI

The battle between Hawke's flock and the Winters went on for almost two hours, with only brief respites in between. There was a reason why raiders had used the camp where Hawke had found Saemus for so many years. A small force could hold off a much larger one for a very long time, if they positioned their people right, and Aveline, with her military training knew just how to do that.

The rest of the Winters had never stood a chance.

Ginnis should have never allowed Hawke and her allies to get so close to them. Had the woman kept Hawke's allies on the strip of land leading to the camp the mage and her allies would have been massacred when the rest of her allies arrived. By letting Hawke in and letting her people take control of the rocks that guarded the entrance to the camp, the Nevarran mercenaries had been out maneuvered. Plus, the Winters did not have a single mage among them. Had they had magical assistance they might have been able to overwhelm Hawke and her friends.

Alas, they did not.

Ginnis had clearly had little or no experience in fighting a mage. Moira might not have had the blade skills that the woman had, but between her magical shields, and her ability to stun her enemy, the final fight was never in doubt.

Hawke shattered the woman's nose with a single strike with the center of her staff, as the mercenary staggered back, she had brought the weighted end of her old whitewood down hard over the woman's skull.

Ginnis died with barely a sound.

Winters reinforcement tried to storm the camp, but the narrow passage that Hawke had used to enter was now blocked. Merrill filled it with great thorny roots while Anders, Bethany and Varric rained death down upon the advancing mercenaries.

It that small path, there was no way for the mercenaries to break out and surround Hawke's companions. Aveline and Fenris were able to hold it almost by themselves, with only token help from Moira. Isabela darted up and down the side paths making sure that none of them made it up there and were able to strike at the mages.

Three times the Winters charged up that path, and three times they were pushed back. Finally the survivors took the hint.

The few remaining mercenaries fled back over the Wounded Coast.

The fight for Saemus Dumar was over.

Hawke and her allies had prevailed.

Anders and Bethany tended to their wounds. Aveline and Fenris had gotten the worst of it, but with the mages aid they had suffered only minor injuries. Merrill had been hurt the worst of them, taking an arrow in the shoulder during the final charge.

The Dalish had gasped as Isabela had yanked it out, she had been about to call Anders for aid, but Merrill shrugged her off.

As the pirate watched the wound in Merrill's shoulder closed up. The Dalish's skin had been slightly shimmering at the time, the result of a minor entropic spell that used the life energy of the dead to both heal and restore the strength of its caster.

Merrill had held her finger to her lips, not wishing to trouble either Hawke or the healers with what was now finished matter.

Isabela nodded.

She respected her friend's wishes.

IOI

Moira limped over to Saemus, the boy had stayed far back while the fighting had been going on, now that it was done, he returned to the body of the slain Qunari, a look of pure grief on his face.

"Ashaad never judged," the boy said, "Never coddled, you were either worth his time, or you were not."

The Viscount's son shook his head.

"The world is lessened for his loss."

Moira blinked, not really sure how to respond, clearly there was more going on here than she had been told.

"I think this is not your first time meeting with this…Ashaad?"

Saemus sighed heavily.

"We met shortly after he and his people landed," the boy said, "I had fled from the city again, away from the keep and my father."

He shook his head.

"I had so many doubts. The Qunari have none. "

Hawke gave him an arched look.

"The Viscount is worried about you my lord," Hawke said trying to be respectful, "I might not be noble, but it is clear that you were in danger here."

Saemus gave her a cold look.

"The Viscount," he spat, "Sends thugs to do a father's job. I was in no danger until his 'help' arrived. I may be his son, and heir to all that that means, but he does not understand. He doesn't hear me."

The boy pursed his lips, glancing down at the slain Qunari.

He turned to Hawke, his eyes burning with passion.

"They are not monsters to be feared, Serah."

Isabela who had been standing nearby listening approached her golden eyes cold and flinty.

"They may **not** be monsters lad," she said, "But don't think for a moment they are _saviors_."

Hawke glanced at her friend; she had never heard such venom in the pirate's voice before. Even in combat Isabela did not seem to get rattled, but hearing the boy's defense of the Qunari, that rattled her…

…that made her angry.

The pirate's eyes narrowed.

"They are not above forcing their way on others. Trust me lad, I've seen it."

Saemus looked like he was about to argue with her but lowered his head and sighed.

Clearly he was familiar with people talking this way about the Qunari.

"We should return to the keep," he said, "I will try again; try to make my father hear, to understand."

Hawke looked down at the body of Ashaad.

"Should we do anything for him," she asked, "I must confess; I do not know what to do with a dead Qunari, should his people be informed?"

"The body is no longer him, and worthy of no special treatment," Saemus said, "That is apparently their way. They will know of his loss, if they will decide to do anything about it, I truly cannot say."

Hawke glanced at Isabela and her fellows. This simple rescue mission had become something more.

They would get their reward, Aveline would make sure of that, but they had also gotten a glimpse into what was going on in the keep. The Viscount's son speaking so passionately about the Qunari; that would not likely go over well with his father's allies, there would likely be more problems coming out of this.

Of course, that was not their affair.

They had been contracted to do a job.

They needed to do it.

"Let us go Saemus," Moira said with a tired sigh.

Your father is no doubt waiting."

Saemus nodded, with one last sad glance down at the Qunari's body.

"I am at your will Serah."


	21. Templars and Mages

**Chapter 21: Templars and Mages**

" _So, that was how the Champion first got involved with Viscount Dumar?"_

 _The Seeker sounded more than a little smug, she was obviously reading too much into that first encounter between Moira and Viscount Dumar. When it had come to Hawke, Dumar had not been interested in the least. She had been a simple hireling; the seeker's comment suggested that it was the start of some grand conspiracy._

 _Varric rolled his eyes._

 _He had been there when they had returned Saemus to the keep. The Viscount barely said three words to Hawke. He had offered her a brief thanks, then son had accused father of putting him in danger, and of not understanding who and what the Qunari were._

 _Moira for her part had stayed out of it. She had performed a service, and had only been interested in being paid for it. Sometimes Varric wondered if things would not have been better for them had they not gone to the Wounded Coast that day. Would Saemus of survived his encounter with the Winters? Would what happened later come to pass if he had not been saved by Hawke?_

 _The dwarf sighed._

 _He really did not know. At the time, all they had been worried about was getting the coin they needed._

 _In that at least, the job had been worth the trouble._

" _Yeah," Varric said answering Cassandra, "Her first meeting, and not her last."_

 _The Seeker pinned him with her cold gaze._

" _I suppose that the Champion honored the Viscount's wishes, that she did not tell others about what had occurred?"_

 _Varric chuckled._

" _You may be surprised to hear this Seeker, but yes, Hawke_ **did** _keep her word."_

 _He shook his head._

" _Others were not so discreet. A few Winters survived their scuffle with Hawke. They no doubt went back and told whoever told them about Saemus' situation, and what had happened when they had tried to collect. Whether those people were allies or enemies of the Viscount did not matter. They started asking questions about who decimated the Winters mercenary company. Coin was likely spread around and finally someone in the Viscount's office talked."_

 _Varric leaned back and met Cassandra's cold gaze with one of his own._

" _Hawke honored the Viscount's request. Officially, no one knew about the incident with the Winters. Unofficially,_ **everyone** _knew."_

 _The Seeker's eyes narrowed._

" _What?" Varric said, "I'm sure you have spent enough time in noble circles to know how their world works. Secrets are not easy to keep when it comes to a city's ruling house._

 _Cassandra snorted. She did not seem very eager to concede the point to Varric, but she was smart enough to recognize that he was not lying._

 _Finally, she nodded in acceptance._

" _What happened then?" she asked._

 _Varric shrugged._

" _What do you think happened, Seeker," he answered, "People in Kirkwall were now getting curious about Hawke. Some of them even had jobs that needed doing. The fact that she had served the Viscount was not lost on anyone. Soon the agents of the wealthy, powerful, and the needy were descending on Lowtown to gain the aid of the Ferelden refugee that had saved the Viscount's son. Not surprising of course, the tale of what had happened began to circulate, becoming more outlandish with each telling."_

 _Cassandra glared at him._

" _Are you going to tell me that that was not you're doing?"_

" _Not at first," he said, "My pride did eventually get the better of me, and I started passing on a few tales of my own. That was likely the start of the creation of my 'Tales of the Champion'."_

 _The dwarf pursed his lips._

" _We don't get to choose what stories others take with them Seeker, the ones we get famous for don't start out that way."_

 _Cassandra snorted._

" _Famous or infamous?" she inquired._

 _Varric grimaced._

" _Either or," he replied._

 _The Seeker sighed and shook her head._

" _So Hawke was not trying to garner the nobles' attention?"_

"" _No," Varric replied._

" _But she was not above using it?"_

" _Of course not."_

" _And what about the Templars? Did she not think that they would investigate reports of a rogue mage in Lowtown?"_

 _The dwarf sighed._

" _We did not know it yet, but Kirkwall's iron lady had more things to worry about right then than just random mage rumors. This-ironically enough led to Hawke working for the Templars, or rather…working on behalf of them."_

 _Cassandra's brow furrowed._

" _I find that a little hard to believe dwarf."_

" _Believe what you want," he said with a shrug, "But trust me, it happened."_

 _The Seeker glowered at him._

" _Tell me what happened." She ordered._

" _If you insist Seeker," Varric said offering her a smart salute._

" _Whatever you say."_

IOI

Moira leaned back in her chair. She watched as Ghislain deCarrac made his way out of the Hanged Man. Personally, she found the man and his opinions repulsive; on the other hand he had offered her five sovereigns to help find out what had happened to his wayward wife Ninette.

Coin had a way of…inspiring her best work.

Rescuing Saemus Dumar had proved to be a boon for their work. She was not sure how any of these people had learned her name, but it was clear that they wanted her help, and were willing to pay handsomely for it.

The mage smiled slightly.

How could she afford to turn any of them down?

She had already spoken with Hubert, one of the merchants from Hightown, the man had interests in the Bone Pit mines outside the city, and needed someone to go there and deal with a production problem. Being that both she and all of his workers were Fereldan, Hubert thought that Hawke might be able to get to bottom of what had happened.

It seemed promising, Hawke thought, leave the city, get some fresh air, and earn some coin while they were at it.

Hawke sighed and stretched her hands over her head. Though it was dark in the Hanged Man the heat of the day continued to beat against the sand stone structure, between that and all the people wandering around in here, she found herself feeling a little sleepy.

Gamlen would likely be out doing…whatever it was he did during the day. Mother would likely be home but would not begrudge her eldest taking a little rest, especially when the night would likely bring more patrols with Aveline, hunting down the scum that threatened the city in the dark proved to be very profitable.

Moira yawned.

She thought of going home and taking a nap, but quickly dismissed the idea as Merrill and Bethany made their way through the crowd. They were accompanied by a matronly looking elf with rust-colored hair.

"This is Arianni, sister," the younger Hawke informed her.

Moira nodded in greetings.

"Arianni's son is missing Hawke," Merrill said giving the woman a compassionate look.

"She needs our help."

Moira leaned back while the Dalish woman told her tale. Arianni had been born to the Dalish but left them after finding herself with child since dabbling with an Antivan born human merchant. Her son, a boy she named Feynriel had since gone missing. Feynriel, cursed with the gift of magic had fled Kirkwall when he learned that his mother had contacted the Circle about him.

"I dinnae wish them to take my boy," the woman almost sobbed, "But…his magic, it is doing something to him. He has dreams you see, dreams of demons whispering to him, urging him to enter their world."

Arianne wiped idly at her eyes.

"I fear that without proper training, my boy will kill himself."

Moira nodded. She and Bethany both knew a little about demons. They were not constantly haunted while they slept, but more than few times demons had come to them, offering them their hearts desire if only they would let the demon in.

Father had warned them about that, and had done everything in his power to make sure that his daughters could stand up to such creatures.

So far, Moira and Bethany had managed just that.

Still…she was not sure about taking this job. Arianni had already contacted the Templars, she had admitted that. Which meant that she and her fellows would not be the only ones out on the hunt for this Feynriel, the Templars would be hungry to bring the boy into the circle, but that did not mean that they would not take the Hawke sisters if they were discovered during the course of the hunt.

No, Moira thought, I can't take the risk.

This time, she was going to have to say no.

Arianni dropped to her knees. Her elven earls lowered so their tips almost touched her shoulders, so great was her fear and worry about her son.

"Please messere," she said clasping her hands before her, "Find Feynriel for me, he is all I have left, all my family."

The woman whimpered.

"I just need to know that he is okay."

Bethany who had moved to her sister's side whispered in the elder Hawke's ear.

"We need to do something Moira," she advised, "Just look at this poor woman, this could just as easily been mother."

The elder Hawke winced at that.

The thought of their mother begging for aid was enough to even get her to ignore her fear. For a brief moment she felt a wave of shame wash over her. The fact that she had been willing to let this poor woman suffer was beyond cruel.

She reached out and put a gentle hand on the elder Dalish's shoulder.

She smiled down into the woman's tearful eyes.

"We will find your boy," she said.

"I promise."

It was enough to get the woman off her knees. She gave Hawke two names, the first being Vincento, the boy's father, and a merchant in the Lowtown Bazaar had only recently returned to the city. Feynriel had expressed a desire to meet him. The only other lead the woman could offer was the name of a Templar, a man she knew as Thrask. Thrask had been assigned to bring Feynriel back to the Circle, if anyone knew anything about the boy's where about, he might.

Moira promised that she would look into it. She had no intention of visiting the Gallows and speaking with the Templar. Perhaps Aveline could contact him, arrange a place that was safe for a meet. Which of course meant that she needed to find the boy's father, with any luck this Vincento would know something about his son's whereabouts, if they were lucky, he might even have taken the boy in himself, though Moira was not going to hold her breath on that.

She frowned slightly.

Maybe it was the fact that she had grown up with a father that had loved her, but the mere thought of some bastard abandoning his child before he was even born made even her see red.

Hawke took a deep breath.

She would have to keep he temper in check when she and the man met.

Hoping that they were done for the day, she started to rise again only to be stopped by young woman, the girl, likely no older than Bethany was clearly out of place here in the Hanged Man. She looked around nervously as she made her way through the crowd. Hawke had never seen her before; given the state of the girl's clothes she was likely the daughter of some retired soldier from Hightown, or perhaps a minor successful merchant. She was pretty in her own way, with short platinum blonde hair, and bright blue eyes, eyes that were clearly red from crying.

"Are…are you Serah Hawke?" the girl asked.

Moira nodded.

"Please," the girl sobbed, "You…you must help me…my brother."

Hawke's brow furrowed.

"What about your brother?" she inquired.

The girl almost whimpered.

"My…my name is Macha, Serah," she said offering a slight curtsey. "My brother Keran…he…he has vanished, and no else will help me. I…I asked the Templars but they practically threw me out of the Gallows. **No one will tell me anything!"**

"The mage frowned slightly.

"What does this have to do with the Templars," she asked.

Macha took a shuttering breath, slowly trying to gather her wits.

She sighed.

"Keran," she murmured, "He…he was always so devout. He…he wanted to do something good with his life, make a difference here in Kirkwall."

The girl shook his head.

"Now…my brother is _gone_."

Hawke felt a chill down her spine.

She swallowed hard; suddenly her mouth had gone as dry as a desert.

"Your…your brother," she managed to say, just barely avoiding squeaking, "He…he is a Templar?"

Macha whimpered and nodded.

"He is a recruit, he has been training for almost five years now," she clarified, "I begged him not to join the order, **pleaded** with him. You hear so many things these days, so many dark rumors about the Templars, and Knight-Commander Meredith. She has many admirers, those that hold her in high esteem for keeping the mages in check, but it is also said that she is **terribly** fierce. That she sees demons everywhere, and is utterly without pity, that she…she…"

The girl hugged herself, suppressing a shiver. She once again glanced nervously around the room.

"It is not wise to say such things, not out loud. People that help rogue mages are said to disappear without a trace, anyone that asks questions or raises any doubts against the order…"

Moira's eyes narrowed.

She was used to being afraid of the Templars, she and Bethany both. It felt strange, seeing someone with no magic so afraid that the Templars might be speaking out against them.

Did the chantry not control the Templars? Was the order not simply servants of the chantry's will?

Bethany put her hand on her sister's shoulder; Moira could see the fear in her younger sister's eyes. Merrill looked upon the girl Macha with compassion, the Dalish still did not understand how dangerous the order could be to anyone with magical talent.

Bethany said nothing, but her honey brown eyes spoke volumes.

She was willing to risk helping Arianni because there was a path to find her son that did not move them too close to the Templars' gaze. If they took up the search for Macha's brother, they would be hard pressed to avoid Templar scrutiny.

Not enough time had passed since their fight in the chantry. The Templars would no doubt still be hunting for Ser Bardel's killers.

Moira worried her lip with her teeth.

She was no revolutionary, she had no desire to be, but if the Templars had grown so powerful in this city that they could even threaten those without magic, wasn't that a problem the nobles needed to face?

If she spoke up, it was unlikely that anyone would believe her. What mage wouldn't lie about the Templars? If someone respected in this city spoke up, say the City's guard captain?"

Moira frowned.

She knew she was technically abusing her friendship with Aveline, but wasn't it for a good cause? Aveline had been married to a Templars after all. Hawke had not known Ser Wesley very long, but he had seemed like a reasonable soul.

Hawke did not believe that her friend would tolerate corruption in the Templar ranks, if they had stepped outside their mandate, did they not need to be put back in check?

Macha was not the only one who had heard rumors about the Templars and their Knight-Commander. True most of those rumors had come from Anders, but Aveline had confirmed at least a few of them. No mage had been allowed to attend the Viscount's court in months. No circle mage had been allowed to address not a single grievance to the city leaders.

That was not fair, it was not right.

Plus, she hated to admit it, but she could sympathize with Macha.

She and Bethany had lost a brother too.

She would not wish that fate on anyone.

Anyone.

She gave Bethany a determined look.

Her sister shook her head no, but Moira would not be discouraged.

She turned back to Macha.

"Can you think of anyone who might know anything about what happened to your brother?" Hawke asked.

Macha seemed to relax slightly.

"You should seek out Wilmod and Hugh; they were Keran's best friends in the order. If anyone may know what is going on, it is them."

Macha rose and curtseyed.

"Maker bless you, messere," she said, "May Andraste guide you in this endeavor."

The girl turned to leave.

Moira sighed and turned to her sister.

Bethany did not look pleased.

"What have you gotten us into sister?" she demanded.

Moira tried to come up with some quip to lighten the mood, alas, she could not think of one.

She sighed again.

"We should go talk to Aveline," she suggested.

Hawke's frown deepened.

"I'm not going into the Gallows without at least some protection.

Bethany gave her a nervous look, the color draining from her cheeks.

The Gallows.

Moira did not blame her, her sister was afraid, she knew.

Moira was scared too, but what choice did they have.

It seemed that fate was pushing them back towards the Gallows.

They needed to be ready…

…They needed to be brave.


	22. Under the Noose

**Chapter 22: Under the Noose**

For the second time, Moira Hawke found herself in the Gallows.

The young mage frowned as she passed through the gates and into the main courtyard, the last time she had been here; the whole place had been on lock down, flooded with Ferelden refugees. Now, she was able to get a glimpse of what life was like for the mages living here.

She frowned slightly.

She was not impressed.

She saw only four mages going about their business, all of them clad in thick robes and wearing cowls over their head. Their steps were hesitant and measured, and most kept their eyes down, not willing, or too scared to make eye contact with anyone. Several stalls had been set up here and there, tended by men and women wearing the same brand that the late Karl Thekla had received. The Tranquil moved with a liquid grace, unlike their mage-counterparts. The loss of their emotions prevented them from feeling any fear or anger at their incarceration. They simply tended to their duties with all the efficiency and skill that they possessed.

Moira avoided there cold empty gazes. Maybe on some level she feared that they would recognize her for what she was, and summon the nearest Templar to make sure that she never left this place.

She suppressed a shudder and took a deep breath, calming her nerves.

When she looked up again, she at least appeared calm.

She would not let her fears of this place run her off.

She had work to do.

At her side stood Varric, Fenris, and Isabela, Aveline had offered to come as well, but Moira decided it was not for the best. A mercenary looking for work in the Gallows was not an uncommon sight; a mercenary accompanied by the Guard Captain of Kirkwall would likely have raised a few Templar eyebrows.

Bethany had said that she would come if Moira needed her. The offer touched her heart, but in the end she decided that it was best that Beth not join them. Her little sister had been so worried about the Templars and everything that had been happening, Moira did not wish to risk causing a scene. In the end Bethany had offered to remain at the Hanged Man. Anders had promised to stay with her, just in case something…dangerous happened. Moira had not exactly approved, but from the happy smile on Bethany's face, she realized that it was better if she just let any idea of refusing go.

She had enough to worry about right now; annoying her little sister was not worth the risk, at least, for the moment.

Varric had offered them the use of his apartment, to keep them out of trouble. Now the dwarf stayed close to Moira offering up reassuring smiles when she needed one. Isabela's presence turned out to be boon as most of the male Templars, not to mention a few female ones, turned to gawk at her as they passed by. Isabela, not unused to such attention, smiled and gave a few waves, going so far to add a little extra swing in her step, no doubt distracting more than a few people with her gently swaying hips.

Moira pursed her lips.

It was easy to forget that Templars were just young men and women too. The power the chantry offered them made them dangerous, but did not kill the desires and urges they felt. It was not hard to imagine that some of these young warriors would take advantage of that power, to acquire the things they wanted and to abuse their charges.

Anders was willing to go to any length to see those abuses stopped. Moira sympathized, but at the same time she recognized that now was not the time start attacking blindly. She still had hope that there was room for change, for compromise. After all, the sister's ruled the chantry, not the Templars.

Surely the chantry could be reasoned with.

Fenris remained quiet for the most part. To be perfectly honest, Hawke had not been sure that it was a good idea to bring the Tevinter elf along. Though he had made no attempt to contact the Templars, it was clear that he remained opposed to the concept of free mages.

She shook her head.

Fenris was…confusing. Beyond the hate that he felt for his former master, the Tevinter elf remained a mystery to her. Any attempts she had made to get him to talk to her were met with evasive answers or stony silences. Finally, she had come to both realize, and accept, that it was unlikely that she would ever find a way to crack the shell that the Tevinter elf hid behind.

It was a disheartening thought to be sure. She had been more than willing to put her faith in her companion, to aid him against his former master if the need arose.

And all she got from him was distrust.

She glanced back at the elf; he paused just as they stepped inside the Gallows, his cold green eyes drinking in every detail of the world around him.

Finally, he sighed.

"This…this is my first time visiting a circle outside of the Imperium," she said flatly, "It…it is not what I expected."

She turned and gave him an arched look.

"Not enough mages suffering to please you, messere?" she asked dryly.

Fenris' ears rose slightly in surprise, and for a moment Moira feared that she had insulted him somehow.

Fenris was many things, but cruel was **not** one of them.

She found it hard to believe that the elf would take any pleasure in the suffering of others, yet she had lashed out against him anyway.

She was still not sure why she had done that?

He had certainly not given her any reason to lash out.

If Fenris took offense, he did not let it show, his face remained implacable; a grim mask that let no one in.

Moira back pedaled trying to undo what she had done with her thoughtless statement.

She hoped that the elf would be accepting of that.

"Is the circle in the Imperium very different from what we have here?"

The elf paused, thinking about her question, his ears twitched slightly as he thought.

"You must understand," he said, "the attitude towards magic is very different in Tevinter. Once the Imperial circle was like it is here, the chantry watched the Magisters for any sign of weakness, and the Templars enforced their will, but over time things changed. The Magisters regained their power, over the chantry, the imperial court, and of life and death itself. Now, the imperial chantry has become little more than an extension of the imperial court, and Templars are kept only to enforce the law, and only then when it serves the Magisters interests."

The elf shook his head.

"It took time, but things have returned to the way they were before the time of Andraste. The Magisters _**rule**_ again and there was nothing the chantry could do to prevent it.

Fenris shook his head.

"Some wars," he said, "Are lost by inches."

Moira blinked, not really sure what to say.

"How did it happen," she asked, "Andraste defeated the Magisters."

"Her armies conquered the south," he answered, "But not the north, the Magisters eventually surrendered to the chantry, but they did it on their terms, and kept enough of their influence to rebuild their powerbase. Try and understand; the chantry was not trying to corral farmers and peasants. The Magisters were the masters of the imperium, men and women who had ruled thousands, and nurtured magical bloodlines for generations."

He sighed again.

"Now," he said grimly, "everything that Andraste did to undo the tyranny of magic is being undone. "

Moira frowned at him.

"From what I've seen here in Kirkwall I'm not so sure that the Circle's here are any better. The harder the Templars try to contain magic the more the mages resist."

She shook her head.

"I've never met a mage who wanted to rule anything. Most of simply wanted to keep their dignity, and be treated with respect."

Fenris' ears twitched.

"If the mages were trusted to govern themselves, respect and dignity may not be enough. A mage is a person after all Hawke, and people have desires, they **want** , and their desires can be anything. They can want justice, love, revenge, wealth, power. How far is a person willing to go to get the things he or she desires, and with the power that a mage wields, who could resist using them to further their own ends?"

Moira's frown deepened. She could not deny that the elf had a point.

Not all mages were like her and Bethany after all.

The Hawke family had been fortunate; they had always had just enough to get by. Malcolm Hawke had done his best to teach his children to be content with their lot, and not seek too far outside of their reach. It had kept them safe, but at the same time, at the same time.

The young mage's eyes narrowed.

Was she not _now_ violating what her father had taught her, was seeking to regain the Amell estate tempting fate? Once they restored their family, what was to stop them from wanting more?

She could not say for certain. All she could do was try to remain true to her conscience, to her father's lessons, and not let herself be overly influenced by her baser desires.

It would not be easy, she realized.

But then again…doing good and being good never was.

"It is never a good idea oppressing people, Fenris," she said, "You of all people should understand that.

He shook his head again.

"I have no desire to see anyone oppressed," he said, "this is not a place of oppression; all I see here is fear and danger. Both mages and Templars fear what might be. The Templars fear what would happen if the mages were left unchecked, and the mages fear the Templars response to them trying to be freer than they already are. The danger I see could come from either group. As I said before, it is **not** what I expected.

Fenris gave her a strange look; he seemed almost…pensive for a moment.

"Are you certain that you should be here?" he asked, "If you are discovered…"

She smiled slightly, once she got over her initial shock.

"I…appreciate your concern," she said, "I'll be careful."

He looked away quickly, once again she found herself at a loss.

Despite everything that Fenris had told her about the Magisters, despite everything he feared, he still was concerned for her safety.

She…she was not sure what to make of that.

Varric cleared his throat loudly.

"Shouldn't we be moving along Hawke," he asked, "Just standing here is bound to draw attention."

She nodded. Varric was right after all.

It did no good simply standing here and talking.

They had come here for a reason, two reasons if you wanted to get technical.

Moira had already spoken with Vincento, the boy Feynriel father. The merchant did not know where the boy was, but he had brought up the name of a former Templar named Samson. It was said that the man helped young mages escape from the chantry's reach.

According to Vincento the man only emerged after dark, she hoped to have words with his tonight.

Arianni had also mentioned a Templar named Thrask, the man was already looking for Feynriel and might have turned up something that Hawke and her companions did not know about. Since they were here anyway, it might be a good idea to check in with the man, find out what he knew.

Of course, she also needed to find those Templar recruits that Macha mentioned. Wilmod and Hugh, those were the names the girl had mentioned. Perhaps they would be able to tell her what had happened to Keran.

She sighed.

Of course, there was always the chance that they knew nothing. If that was the case then she was back to square one.

She had no desire to go back to Macha and tell her that she found nothing.

Moira led her friends deeper into the Gallows courtyard. She noticed a young knight recruit moving just leaving what looked like an armorer's stall.

She smiled slightly.

Perhaps this young man could tell what he knew about Keran, or at the very least point her in the direction of the boy's friends.

What she was about to do, to walk up to a Templar, it was something she would have never dared to try back in Lothering. Of course, she had never faced the kinds of dangers that she had found in Kirkwall, back then either.

She chuckled to herself.

She had spent a long time living under the noose.

Perhaps she had finally gotten used to it…

…or maybe she just no longer gave a damn.

Whatever the reason, one thing was clear.

She would not be leaving this place without answers.

She had promises to keep.

She was intent on honoring them, come what may…

…and to whatever end.


	23. The Recruit and the Knight-Captain

**Chapter 23: The Recruit and the Knight-Captain**

" _Hawke learned in the Gallows that Keran was not the only Templar recruit missing. Apparently it had been going on for a while, and, according to Keran's fellow recruits, only his friend Wilmod had come back."_

 _Varric sighed, and scratched his chin thoughtfully. So much of Hawke's life had changed because of that job. It was not only the first time that Hawke risked Templar attention, but it had brought Keran and Macha into her life._

 _He pursed his lips at the memory of the brother and sister._

 _Their arrival was definitely an event of consequence._

 _Cassandra sniffed and crossed her arms over her chest._

" _I remember reading reports about these events," she said._

 _Varric arched an eyebrow._

" _Really?" he inquired._

 _The Seeker nodded._

" _Knight-Commander Meredith reported that her knights dealt with the problem. Though I don't remember any mention of the champion?"_

 _The dwarf rolled his eyes._

" _No big surprise there, Seeker," he snorted, "The Iron Lady was not the type to give credit where credit was due, besides, as far as Hawke and I knew, she never set foot outside the Gallows to investigate what was going on. All we saw was Knight-Captain Cullen and he…"_

" _I'm aware of Cullen," she said stopping him mid-sentence, "I'm guessing that he will confirm this part of your story?"_

 _Varric shrugged._

" _Probably," he admitted, "Considering that he bumped into Hawke on the Wounded Coast and gave her a lead on Keran's whereabouts…"_

 _The Dwarf chuckled._

" _Say what you want about the Knight-Captain, he never lied to Hawke, not once."_

" _Hm," the Seeker said, gently tapping her chin with her finger._

 _Varric smirked at her._

 _If she expected him to not give credit where it was due, she was gravely mistaken. Hawke had never looked at all the Templars as enemies. She had come to blows with several of Meredith's cronies over the years, but those men and women had not given Moira any choice._

 _Pretty much all of those situations had been either fight, or die._

 _Cassandra shook her head._

" _I'm surprised to find out that Templar recruits would be willing to talk to a stranger," she said, "I've known them to be quite insular when it comes to the matters of the order."_

" _True," Varric agreed, "But they were also scared, a rumor had started in the barracks that the Iron Lady was conducting some ritual to test the recruits resolve, a ritual that had likely claimed the lives of their fellows."_

" _Unlikely," Cassandra spat back._

 _Varric shrugged again._

" _But not impossible," he said, "Seeker, you really don't understand the awe that Meredith Stannard inspired in Kirkwall. Few even dared speak her name, much less speak out against her."_

 _The dwarf shook her head._

" _People will risk much when they are afraid. The recruits had no evidence that their superiors were doing anything to protect them. Hawke showing up and asking to help was a lifeline of sorts, an offer to do something and not simply wait to disappear themselves."_

 _Cassandra sniffed, yet she nodded slightly, yielding that point to Varric._

 _The dwarf decided not to comment on it._

 _They still had a long way to go._

" _You said Cullen gave you a lead on where to find the missing recruits?"_

 _Varric nodded._

" _How did that occur?"_

 _Varric sighed._

" _We were able to find one of the recruits that were friends with Keran, a young soldier named Hugh, though he did not know where Keran was, one of his fellow knights had seen Wilmod, one of the recruits who had gone missing and had apparently returned, returned, and left almost as suddenly as he had."_

 _Cassandra's eyes narrowed._

" _I take it that Cullen went in pursuit of the boy?"_

 _Again Varric nodded._

" _How did the Champion find them?"_

" _There are few roads out of Kirkwall Seeker, Wilmod's friends said that the boy wanted to get out of the city and clear his head. If someone is leaving the Gallows on foot, their choices of a path to take are kind of limited."_

 _Cassandra frowned slightly._

" _I take it Hawke caught up with this Wilmod?"_

" _Yeah," Varric said, "But not before Cullen did."_

 _The dwarf smiled slightly._

" _That is when this story gets interesting._

IOI

" _ **ANDRASTE'S BLOOD WILMOD, I WILL KNOW WHERE YOU ARE GOING AND I WILL KNOW NOW!"**_

The raised voices up ahead gave Hawke pause as she approached the tiny campsite. They had left the Gallows quickly, hoping to confront Wilmod and find out what he knew about Keran and the other missing recruits.

Hawke frowned slightly.

If the Templars were up to something sinister, some secret ritual, then her search for this Keran boy would likely end right here. She had already risked much by going to the Gallows.

She could only go so far before people started asking questions about her, questions that she had no desire to answer.

Hawke's brow furrowed. She knew that the Knight-Captain of the Templars had gone in pursuit of Wilmod as well, but she had hoped that the boy would have been smart of enough to get off the road as soon as possible. Hawke had spent the last year learning about the lands around the city, had the boy been smart she was confident that she would have been able to find him before the Knight-Captain would.

Alas, that had not happened.

She dared a peak around one of the rocks closest to where the two were arguing. A tough looking Ferelden in Templar officers garb had a young recruit by the front of his breast plate. The curly blond haired officer, likely this Knight-Captain Cullen, was glaring almost eye to eye with the smaller dark haired recruit.

"Mercy ser," the recruit whimpered, "Have Mercy!"

The Knight-Captain gave him a feral grin.

"If only it was that easy," he said with a lethal purr.

"Don't…don't hit me," Wilmod almost sobbed.

Cullen kneed the boy in the gut and flung him back to the ground.

The Knight-Captain drew his sword.

"I have no more time for games," he growled, "I will know what is going on here, and I will know _**NOW**_!"

Moira having seen enough of the Templar's brutal tactics finally stepped out into the open. She leaned casually against her staff, hoping not to antagonize the Templar officer.

"I never realized that Templars treated their charges with the same disdain that they treat the mages in this city."

The comment had meant to be a bit of dry humor on her part, but her anger and fear at Templars in general made it sound more like a threat or an accusation.

Cullen glanced up at her, his eyes turning fierce.

"Careful Hawke," she heard Fenris murmur behind her.

"Careful."

Moira recognized the wisdom in the elf's words, but at the same time she was angry at what she had just witnessed.

That anger made her braver than she should have been.

"This does not concern you stranger," The Knight-Captain growled, "You must…"

Surprisingly, it was not Hawke that responded to the Knight-Captain's words. It was Wilmod, a moment earlier he had been near tears lying on the ground.

Now, that he no longer had a Templar's sword at his neck, the young recruit rose to his feet.

He rose, and he laughed.

Both Moira and the Templar officer turned, the power in Wilmod's voice was far different that it had been a few moments earlier.

The boy grinned at them both.

"You have touched me for the last time you pathetic human," Wilmod spat, "Now…to me!"

Wilmod's body began to change, his skin darkened and burst open, his armor melted off his slender frame. A creature both broad shouldered and covered with purple-black muscle, and a leather cowl now stood before them, one single glowing yellow eye burned into them.

The air rippled around the transforming Templar recruit, for a brief moment the fade peeled back, shades of shadow and evil slithered out of the hiding places, called by the Wilmod-creature's command. Among them stood misshapen monsters, bloated broad shouldered things, wearing the tattered remnant of mage robes.

The sight turned the Knight-Captain pale, even as he brought his sword and shield up into combat position.

"Andraste protect us," he gasped.

The Wilmod-thing laughed again, laughed and reached out for Cullen.

Moira did not give it the chance.

Staff met monster's claws; while the beast was off-balance she kicked it firmly in its midsection, the creature hissed and fell back.

Moira twirled her staff defensively, but as the Wilmod-thing began to move forward again, she knew that she was outmatched.

The Knight-Captain of the Templars stood almost back to back with her now. She could use the combat skills her father had taught her, but any magic was out. One spell cast in front of this man would likely earn her a one way ticket to the gallows.

Hawke cursed under her breath.

She was a skilled fighter, but without her magic, she was more than a bit hobbled.

She was likely a lamb to the slaughter.

Cullen roared with fury and charged the bloated mage-things. Isabela and Fenris charged in engaging the Shades and trying to keep the monsters off of Cullen. Varric held back, firing his crossbow. Bianca spat death at anything that wasn't Cullen or his companions.

Fenris came to her aid in fighting the Wilmod-thing. The elf's lyrium markings suddenly glowed brighter, almost as bright as the sun.

Cullen was forced to look away to trust that these strangers would not let the monsters attack him from behind.

Moira risked a glance at Fenris, despite the almost painful glow; the elf was looking right at her.

"He is distracted," the elf murmured.

"Now Hawke."

Moira smiled.

 _He was shielding her._

Fenris was shielding her from the Knight-Captain's vision; he was giving her a chance to strike back!

 _It was a chance she did_ _ **not**_ _waste._

She kept her offensive spells fairly basic, nothing too grandiose that would leave the Templar asking questions. Fire, ice and force magic battered the creature that had once been a Templar recruit. The light from Fenris' markings seemed to cause it almost as much harm as the elf's physical blows.

The creature tried to slither away, but Hawke denied it even that chance of escape. Flame and steel met misshapen flesh.

The Wilmod-thing lost its head, its body turned to filth and ash as it fell upon the rough stones of the old Kirkwall road.

Without their master, the lesser creatures now found themselves greatly outclassed. Between Hawke and her allies and the skills of the Knight-Captain, none of the monsters escape.

As the last one fell and crumbled into ash, Fenris finally toned down his radiant glow.

Isabela smirked at Fenris as she sauntered up to him.

"Well," she said, "You are just full of surprised aren't you sweet thing?"

"The elf snorted and looked away.

Cullen blinked, his eyes still watering from the fading light.

He frowned as he looked at Fenris.

"What type of man are you?" he asked.

Fenris gave him a feral-almost smile.

"It…is a long story," he said gruffly.

Moira approached the Knight-Captain, now that the battle was over, it was best to try to figure out what happened before all the evidence blew away on the wind.

"What was that," she asked the Templar.

"Was he possessed?"

The Templar blinked. He drank in Moira's face, for a moment the mage feared that he had seen her use her magic that he was going to arrest her right then and there.

That did not happen.

"Lo…Lona?" he murmured.

Moira smiled slightly. Something in the man's voice said that this 'Lona' whoever she was, was more than a simple friend to this man.

Lucky girl, she thought.

Now that the man was not threatening her or others, he was actually quite attractive.

Not her type of course, but that did not mean that she could not enjoy the view.

"My name is Hawke," she said, "I was trying to find out what happened to a recruit of your order, a young man named Keran."

She once again glanced down at the remains of Wilmod.

"I don't suppose you know what happened to him?"

The Templar coughed, quickly regaining his composure after being dazzled by Fenris, and the sight of her face.

"Knight-Captain Cullen," he said offering her a slight bow, "And to answer your question Milady, no, I do not know where Keran is, a fact I was trying to remedy.

He kicked over a pile of dust that had been a clawed hand a few moments earlier.

"Clearly there is more going on than I anticipated."

Isabela laughed at the man's statement.

"That is putting it mildly, sweetie."

Cullen shook his head.

"I've seen demons in solid form summon others of their kind into this world before, but usually only happens when abominations are involved."

The knight sighed.

"I did not believe that one of our own could become possessed."

He glanced up at Hawke with suspicion in his eyes.

"You have the look of a mercenary about you."

"I've been called worse," Hawke shrugged.

"What is your business with Keran?"

"No business," she answered, "His family is worried about him, asked if I would look into it, that's it."

Cullen snorted and shook his head.

"Normally, I would advise any strangers to stay out of Templar business," he said, "But considering the fact that you were able to handle this."

He sighed.

"I…I don't know."

Hawke smiled at him gamely.

"It looks like we have common interests," she said, "We both want to find out what happened to Keran. Maybe we can help each other."

Cullen's brow furrowed, but the fact that he did not reject her offer outright was a good sign.

Finally, he nodded grimly.

"I've been looking into this matter since our recruits started to go missing," he said, "Wilmod and Keran were only the latest."

Cullen shrugged.

"We don't know what happened to them."

Hawke gave him a suspicious look.

"So there is no ritual?" she asked.

"What ritual?" Cullen inquired.

"We spoke with some of your recruits," Varric informed him, "they were concerned that the knight-commander was performing some deadly ritual to test their loyalty."

Cullen laughed at that.

"What," he chuckled, "Recruits can be worse than a ladies sowing circle with their rumors. We hold a vigil before they take up their arms, but the most dangerous thing in that is falling asleep."

He shook his head again.

"There is no ritual," he said, "But we do have missing recruits, and now we have poor Wilmod here, and in that lays the problem."

Hawke looked down at the destroy thing that had been a Templar recruit.

"Do you know anything about Wilmod or Keran; I've heard that they were friends."

"Of Keran very little," Cullen admitted, "Wilmod has…had never completely accepted what being in the order meant. When he disappeared I assumed that he had just run off, when he came back and left again so quickly it set off a few warning bells."

Cullen sighed.

"A group of Templars were murdered in the chantry a short time back, likely by Maleficarum. The Knight-Commander suspects they might have been led into a trap. I thought that one or more of the recruits might have been involved. What happened to Wilmod might just confirm that."

Moira pursed her lips.

She knew what happened to those Templars of course, but she could not tell the Knight-Captain about it.

She had no desire to be lumped in with whoever had done this to the Templar recruit.

"Not all free mages are enemies, Knight-Captain."

Cullen's eyes turned flinty.

"I was in the Circle of Ferelden during the Blight Milady," he said, "I saw Uldred's depravity first hand."

He shook his head.

"Templar leniency can only lead to trouble."

Moira was about to respond to that statement when Varric nudged her from behind.

She glanced back, the look on his face said volumes.

Now was not the time to argue about this.

She hated to admit it, but he was right.

Now was not the time.

"Do you know where Wilmod was last before he disappeared?" she asked.

Cullen coughed and blushed slightly.

"Um…yes…I ah…yes, the last time Wilmod left the gallows he was on his way to the Blooming Rose."

Hawke coughed.

The brothel, she thought.

It would be the brothel.

Isabela smirked at the mention of the place.

Cullen rubbed his neck.

"I tried…questioning the…workers there, but they claimed to have known nothing."

Isabela chuckled.

"You just didn't ask them the right way, Sweet Thing," the pirate queen smirked.

Hawke pursed her lips.

It wasn't much of a lead, but…

…something was better than nothing.

"I will look into it," she offered, "The…girls at the Rose might be more open to talking to me than the Knight-Captain of Kirkwall."

She smiled slightly.

"You never know what you might learn from pillow talk."

Cullen, still blushing slightly at the mention of the brothel nodded.

"Yes…um…I suppose that it is possible."

He coughed and stood a little straighter.

"The Templars would be in your debt if you did discover want happened here," he said, "If you find anything, come see me in the Gallows, I will make sure you are granted entry."

Cullen turned and walked back towards the city.

Moira did not move until the Templar was out of eyeshot.

As soon as he was gone, she sighed with relief.

Maker's breath, she thought.

That was too close.

She was grateful that Bethany was not here, being confronted by Kirkwall's Knight-Captain might have been too much for her heart.

Hawke looked around at the destroyed shapes that had been Wilmod and his demon allies.

If this had begun at the Blooming Rose, then that was likely where they would find answers.

Cullen had not said if Keran had accompanied Wilmod to the Rose, but if he had…?

Hawke frowned.

She was not quite sure if there would be anything left of Keran to find, if he had suffered the same fate as his friend…?

She turned.

Isabela grinned as she led them back towards the city.

"Where to now Hawke," the pirate asked.

Moira's brow furrowed.

If they were going to be facing the people that had put a demon in a Templar recruit, she wanted to be as well armed as possible.

They would return to the city and collect Bethany, and Anders, maybe even Merrill too. She wanted as much magical firepower at her side as they could muster.

This job was looking less and less than a simple missing person's case.

If they were going be facing dark magic, she would be ready.

She took a deep breath and mustered her courage.

They would be ready.


	24. The Rose

**Chapter 24: The Rose**

"Wellll!" Hawke said with a nervous shake of her head.

"Here we are in the brothel."

The mage tried to smile.

"Now…my day is complete."

She stood with Varric, Aveline, and Isabela just inside the foyer of the Blooming rose. No sooner had they stepped through the door when their senses were almost assaulted by the smell overly-sweet perfume, and cheap bottom shelf liquor.

The rose was quite busy this evening. Patrons stood at the bar or lounged at the many card tables or chairs. A minstrel played a lute in the corner, while servers moved back and forth taking drinks to the establishment's clientele.

As for the…workers, they were easy to identify. Young men and women both, the clothes they wore, brief as they were, showed off their fit and trim bodies. On a small chalkboard behind the bar was a list of what was…on offer when it came to these…professionals.

Everything from a simple massage up to…something far **more** intimate was available, provided the guest had the coin and was willing to play by the rules of the house.

Moira shook her head.

She might have grown up a simple farm girl, but that did not mean that she did not know that places like this existed. Still…she had not expected the Rose to be…so… _open_ in what they offered their 'guests."

She swallowed hard.

She was suddenly very grateful that she had not mentioned to mother where they were going tonight.

Leandra Hawke would have been both shocked and dismayed.

Varric smirked as he took in the sights. The dwarf did not seem the least bit bothered by what was going on around them, if anything he was amused by **her** reaction to being here.

Finally, he chuckled.

"Madame Luscine runs this place for Harlan, or with him…or maybe on **top** of him. It is difficult to say for sure."

He gave Moira a sly smile.

"It is a _coterie_ thing."

Moira said nothing; she could barely find her words; that was how…nervous she was about being in this place. She was grateful that Bethany had decided to stay outside, waiting to be signaled if her sister needed her.

Hawke would rather not expose her sister to what went on in a place like this.

It would be nice if Bethany could keep her innocence in this city a little while longer.

For Moira, the days of being truly innocent were long gone.

The compromises she had been forced to make since coming to Kirkwall had made sure of that. Yet, she tried not to have any regrets. Everything she had done, she had done to keep her family safe.

 **Everything.**

Isabela, the only one in their party truly comfortable being in a place like this, smirked at Hawke's reaction.

"Universal truth number one, Hawke," she began, "the difference between a courtesan and a whore is not as extreme as most people think."

"Really," Moira said, "What exactly is the difference Bella?"

The pirate queen chuckled.

"Better shoes, sweet thing."

Hawke rolled her eyes.

Aveline shook her head.

The guard captain was not wearing her full armor today. If the workers here would not speak around a Knight-Captain of the Templars, they certainly would not open up to the Captain of the Guard.

"Try not to touch anything in here, Hawke," she advised.

Isabela cackled and gave her a savage sneer.

"I say you could do with a little touching, big girl," she said, "Who knows, we might even be able to find someone in here willing to touch **you**."

Aveline glared at the pirate, for a moment it looked like she might reach out and slap the other woman.

Moira worried about her two friends sometimes. Isabela was just going to keep pushing and pushing, and finally, one day, Aveline would react…

Hawke did not think that the pirate would be happy when she did.

Of course, such a confrontation was likely to happen on another day, Aveline was a professional. She knew how to keep her emotions in check. In the end the guard captain settled for another shake of her head and the murmur of the words 'shut up whore."

The pirate gave her a saucy grin, and added a little extra swing in her hips as she entered the place.

Moira pursed her lips.

She hated to admit it, but sometimes, just _sometimes,_ she wished that she had the courage and the skill to make an entrance like Isabela. Half the people in the Rose stopped what they were doing to glance up as the pirate queen passed, the bartender practically jumped to see to her needs even before she tried to address him.

The apostate shook her head.

Her whole life, she had endeavored to be invisible. It kept her safe sure, but at the same time it meant that she went unnoticed even when she wished to be.

Being here in Kirkwall…she was starting to understand that there was more to life than hiding from Templars and living in secret on an isolated farm. She…

Moira almost did a double take when she noticed a familiar looking man standing at the bar, only two or three patrons down from Isabela.

Uncle Gamlen glanced up, his eyes widening slightly at the vision of his niece standing in the Rose!

It was all she could do to keep from diving for cover, hoping against hope that Gamlen would not realize that she was here.

Now that Gamlen knew, it was only a matter of time until word got back to her mother. Moira might have been a grown woman, but that did not mean that she still did not quail under her mother's disapproving gaze.

Gamlen came up beside her. She swallowed hard, trying very hard not to squeal and dive for cover.

Her uncle glanced around, making sure that no one was listening maybe.

He leaned in close.

"I will make a deal with you girl," he said, "As far as Leandra is concerned, I did not see you, and you did not see me."

Moira nodded quickly, as he uncle grumbled and made his way into another room. She and Uncle Gamlen might not have gotten along most of the time, but in this…this they were united.

There was no reason to tell her mother about this.

Nope, she thought with a shake of her.

No reason at all.

IOI

"Wilmod came here a lot! Are you sure that he had time to be a Templar?"

Varric chuckled slightly. It had not been hard to pin down the Blooming Rose's primary book keeper. Viveka was clearly not just one of the girls here at the Rose. Her clothing was of a slightly higher quality than most, and she was wearing more of them. Compared to most of the skimpily clad workers here in the brothel, Viveka looked almost prudish.

The girl had been understandably…hesitant to aid Hawke and her companions. As she had said, their establishment made a lot of money off young Templars looking for a bit of discretion, telling tales about what they were doing here was not good for business.

Varric realized that he could have just stood back and let Aveline threaten the woman into submission. Even if she did not threaten to have the Rose closed down, he knew, from experience, just how scary the future guard captain could be.

Aveline scared the piss out of him on a regular basis; it would not be hard to imagine her doing that to someone else.

Yes, he could have stayed out of it, but decided not to. He informed the book keeper that they were here on official business for the order, but at the same time, as outsiders they would be more than a discreet. Nothing damaging would make it back to the order, provided that Viveka and Luscine provided them with what they needed.

He glanced over at Hawke. Their usually fearless leader looked downright jumpy, and had been so since they had first come here. Not that that was any big surprise of course. Hawke knew enough about the underworld to keep those looking to rip her off at bay. When it came to violence, the mage was an old hand, when it came to vice however…

Hawke was still a bit of a babe in the woods.

Varric tried not to smirk too broadly.

To be perfectly honest, it was very fetching.

It was nice to know that there was still a shy young girl hidden underneath the reputation that Moira had built for herself.

It would be most _interesting_ to try to get to know that girl.

It would be **very** interesting indeed.

No sooner had the thought occurred to him when Bianca's face appeared out of nowhere in his mind's eye. Once upon a time, the beautiful smith had made his life in the Dwarven Merchant's guild bearable.

He sighed.

It was sad that his relationship with Bianca had revealed to his enemies his one true weakness. Varric's one true defense against those bastards in the guild had been that he had never given to shits about his people and his place in dwarven society.

When they learned of Bianca, all that had changed, he had spent the last few years trying to move on, now, Hawke was here.

He took a deep breath.

It would be better if no one knew what he thought of Hawke. It was for the best. It was safer.

No matter what his heart said on the matter. He had tried to follow his heart once…

…He would never be so foolish again.

IOI

Viveka turned the page in her book, going over Wilmod's accounts. The last girl he had been with before he had disappeared had been Idunna, the exotic wonder from the east.

Hawke chuckled nervously.

"That…that is quite the stage name," she quipped.

Viveka snorted.

"It sounds better than the tramp from Darktown; that is for sure."

Varric snorted with amusement.

"I don't suppose that this… _exotic wonder_ is working tonight?" he inquired.

Viveka motioned with her head. She did her best to keep her voice down, so none of the other girl's would hear.

"Up the stairs," she said, "turn right, two doors down on the right."

"Many thanks, my good woman," he said with a bow.

The girl leaned in closer.

"You did not hear anything about this from me. Is that clear?"

Both Varric and Moira nodded. They had promised discretion after all. Hopefully this Idunna would be able to tell them what she knew about Wilmod and, hopefully, about Keran as well.

It was still unclear how the Templar recruit had gone from this place to being possessed by a demon and fleeing Kirkwall.

Whatever _had_ happened, Varric thought, they needed to get the right answers here.

Hawke could use a little Templar good will, and besides, the order's coin would go a long way in getting the expedition back on track.

The four of them went up stares to question this girl Idunna.

Hopefully, she would have some answers.

IOI

A few moments later, Hawke stood staring off into space, a contented dreamy smile on her face.

All seemed perfectly right with the world for once. She felt no fear of the Templars, no fear of what was going to happen to Mother and Bethany.

In this one pure crystalline moment…everything was perfect.

The girl Idunna lounged on the bed, a contented smile on her face. Their questioning of her had…

Wait…why had they been questioning her again?

Moira almost giggled.

For the life of her, she could not really remember anymore. Something about the Templars she thought…

Though why she would have any dealings with the Templars was beyond her at that moment.

It…it had seemed really important though, at the time.

"Tell me, pretty one," Idunna cooed softly, "Who was it that told you about little old me?"

Hawke's brow furrowed, she had made a promise after all. She had been trying to be discreet and…

Despite the smile on her face, Idunna's eyes narrowed dangerously.

Hawke felt a momentary twinge of fear, she had angered Idunna!

She would never do that.

"It…it was Viveka," she said quickly, "She showed us…her books."

Idunna snorted and rose from the bed. Her every movement was seduction personified.

Yes, Hawke thought, she understood.

Looking like that, with a body like that…

No wonder she had not gotten Wilmod's name, she…

Moira's brow furrowed again.

Wilmod?

For one brief moment her memory cleared. She remembered fighting demons outside the city. She…

"So Viveka sold me out," Idunna hissed, "That drab pathetic, little sewer **rat** , she…will be **dealt** with!"

Hawke did not respond; she could not, though slowly she felt a small fire growing in the back of her mind, a fire that was only just starting to burn away the haze.

Behind her the others stood just as spellbound. Varric and Isabela swayed as if to some beautiful music. Aveline's eyes lay locked on Idunna, unable to look away, her expression might have seemed slightly worried, but she was powerless to do anything to change their situation.

They were all flies now, caught in a spider's web.

Idunna, the spider that had snared them all smiled savagely.

"I need you to do me a favor," she cooed.

Hawke, slowly trying to push back the clouds of desire, nodded dumbly.

The courtesan smiled, and handed her a dagger from the nightstand behind them.

"Take this blade," she purred, "And run it slowly across your throat."

Hawke nodded and raised the dagger.

She would do anything to please Idunna.

Anything.

She felt the blade just prick her throat, when the fire in the back of her mind suddenly blazed bright. With it came a voice, a voice that had already protected her and guided her when it came to magic, and doing what she knew to be right.

Her father's voice rang out in her head.

It's desperation piercing the sweet fog that the courtesan had placed in his daughter's mind.

 **What are you doing?!**

Moira paused.

 **Wake up Moira!**

She shook her head.

 **WAKE UP!**

Moira blinked again, as magic roared through her, pushing back the haze, bringing back her memories.

Idunna had not yet realized that anything had changed; the bitch was still smiling waiting for Moira to kill herself.

Fury blossomed in Hawke's breast.

You bitch, she thought.

You **fucking bitch**!

She still felt the tug of the girl's power, but now she recognized it. Now…she could **fight.**

…And fight she did.

Her hand shook but the blade went no closer. Hawke reached down inside her, drawing on the power that flowed through her, she send that magic pulsing out, pushing away any and all influence coming from the other woman.

"Let…go…of… my…mind," she hissed.

Hawke gestured, sending the spell over the room.

The power holding her and her friends broke.

Idunna gasped, she fell back like she had been punched.

Her silver eyes widened.

"How," she murmured, "How…did…?"

Hawke's eyes blazed with both magic and fury.

Idunna almost whimpered.

"Oh shit," she gasped.

Hawke was on her before she could run.

She shoved the girl against the wall; the blade that Idunna had handed her was now at the courtesan's throat.

"No," Idunna cried out, "Mercy! Please have mercy!"

Behind her, Varric, Aveline, and Isabela blinked like they had just woken from a dream.

Hawke pinned Idunna with a fierce glare.

"What foul magic was that?!"She demanded.

Idunna whimpered.

"Blood…blood and desire, in…in equal measure. A skill I learned… elsewhere."

Hawke's eyes narrowed further.

"Blood magic," she spat.

"Yes, messere," Idunna said quickly, "Please…please don't hurt me. I…I will tell you anything you want."

She gave Hawke a pleading look.

"Spare me, messere," the girl begged.

"Spare me **please**!"

It was all Moira could do to keep from slitting the girl's throat, so great was her fury.

"Is that what you did to Wilmod?" she demanded, "Is this what happened to the Templar recruits?"

Idunna whimpered as a drop of blood ran down her throat.

"I ensorcelled Wilmod weeks ago, he was sent to the Sanctuary with the others."

The girl looked like a frightened animal, her eyes pleading for her life.

"It is all Tarohne's doing," she gasped, "She put me here, to draw in Templar recruits. I had no choice. I had nothing! I was starving in Darktown. She said we would bring back the ancient Imperium, that we would be able to rule again if we were willing to fight."

A sob escaped the girl's throat.

"Please…it is not my fault."

She spoke quickly, answering all of Hawke's questions. Idunna did not know how many blood mages were currently in the sanctuary. The entrance was trapped, but she told Hawke where to find the lever necessary to disarm it. Her own time in the Sanctuary had been limited, so she did not know what other surprises awaited an intruder, but given what she knew of Tarohne, she expected that there were more than a few.

By the time that the girl was finished she was blubbering, terrified of dying at the hands of Hawke and her companions. The speed in which the other woman fell apart disgusted Moira, but at the same time it forced her to take a closer look at the girl.

Idunna stripped of her make-up and fine dress was just a girl, seventeen or eighteen if Moira was any judge. She was barely older than Bethany had been when they had first arrived in Kirkwall.

Hawke's brow furrowed.

Her anger quickly turned to pity. Had the girl been living in Darktown all this time, who knew what horrors she had seen? What abuses might she have had inflicted on her if she had not turned to blood magic?

Moira was no blood mage, but she could understand how desperation could lead to such a path, and there was no doubt that the girl had played a part in what had happened to Wilmod, and Maker knew who else.

The girl was dangerous, perhaps too dangerous, but the thought of killing a girl while she begged for her life did not sit right with Hawke, but at the same time, she could not simply let her go, if she did, and the girl hurt more people then she would be responsible for setting the blood mage loose on the world.

Hawke removed her blade from the girl's neck; she slumped to the floor, pathetically, looking up with red tearful eyes.

She gazed coldly down on her.

"The Templars are coming for you," she informed the girl, "I would not advise trying your charms on them."

Idunna whimpered and curled up into a ball, sobbing pathetically.

Aveline agreed to stay behind and keep an eye on the blood mage. Varric promised to go and alert the Templars let them know they had a prisoner for the Gallows.

Hawke pursed her lips.

Anders would not be happy about this, Bethany wouldn't either, but at the same time she could not bring herself to murder the misguided girl.

Moira made her way down the stairs with her companions at her heels.

"We're going after them, I take it?" Isabela asked.

The young mage nodded.

Even if they did not find Keran alive, then at the least they would be able to avenge him.

This could not be allowed to continue.

Those blood mages needed to be stopped, and stopped…they would be.

They would go to this Sanctuary that Idunna mentioned…

…and there…they would get some answers.

 **A/N: A little heads up for all you** _ **Stormbreaker**_ **fans out there. I'm hoping to finally close out Alim's tale this year, but before I do, look for a certain party member of Alim's to turn up in this story next chapter. Carver is finally coming home to his family, and things will be getting a little different from here on in. Thanks for reading, and please post reviews, you know I like them.**

 **DG**


	25. A Dead Man

**Chapter 25: A Dead Man**

The young man looked astounded as the ship passed between the Black Cliffs of Kirkwall, the towering sweeping statues of the twins overhead. He had grown up hearing stories about this place, but _now_ , actually being **here** …

…He found those stories had not done this place justice. They were mere reflections that a little boy sitting on his mother's knee.

The truth…was far more intimidating.

As they passed into the harbor; the city and the distant Gallows rose up out the darkness, The sun had been setting when they had first sighted land, now, as they passed through the cliffs night had fallen fully, the lights of the buildings on the shore eclipsed the stars, as smoke belched from the chimneys of the Lowtown foundries. Even here on the open water, you could still smell the docks and the various cargoes that had found their way into the city of chains. It reminded him a bit of Denerim, but the air here seemed different, darker somehow.

The young man's brow furrowed in thought. He had hoped that he would have a plan ready when he reached these shores. He had hoped that inspiration would come to him as they made their way over waves from the shores of distant Ferelden.

Now that he was here…he realized that had been wishful thinking at best.

 _How was he going to find Mother and the girls in this place?_

He shook his head.

 _He wasn't even sure where to start._

He ran a hand through his short dark hair, and found himself wishing that one of his old companions had joined him on this final leg of his journey. They had been forced upon him by circumstance, but that did not mean that he had not come to appreciate the company.

Any of them…even Oghren would have been welcomed. At least then he would have someone here to keep him focused.

At least then…he would not feel so alone.

The sailors gave him a wide berth as they went about their duties. His weapons and clothing hinted that he was far more well off than he actually was. The great sword and light armor that now covered his clothes had been a gift from his noble friends and allies. They had all wished him well as he made this journey. Theirs prayers had gone with him.

Even though they recognized that what he was searching for here in Kirkwall might not even be here.

He frowned slightly.

As far as he knew, his family may not have even made it this far, they might not even have made It out of Ferelden.

For all he knew, they could all be dead right now, and this journey a foolish flight of fancy.

The young man shook his head.

 **No,** he refused to believe **that**. He _absolutely_ refused!

His family _was_ alive, he was sure he would feel it if it was not so.

The one who had cursed him had been true to her word; at least as far as he had been concerned, she had assured him that his family would make it out of Ferelden.

If the witch said it was so, then…it was so.

It was not the best hope to cling to, but it was the only one he had. Things might have been different if his family knew he was alive, they might have left some word, some message that hinted on if they had made it here or not.

Alas, no message had been left. As far as mother and the girls knew, he was dead, and as the witch had told him after she had healed him and sent him on his way.

No one misses a dead man.

The captain approached him from behind. He was a weathered middle-aged man with a dark red beard steaked with gray, the skin of his face reflected a lifetime on the sea, his voice was horse from shouting over the crashing waves. He was one of the few people on the ship who had been brave enough to speak with their passenger. Who did not look at him as if he was some stuck up noble, far too above their station.

The young man appreciated that.

He put his hands behind his back, trying his best hide any sense of trepidation or doubt.

He was one of the Heroes of the Blight after all.

It was expected that he at least _look_ the part, no one wanted to see a hero fretting over his fears.

So he hid his doubts. There would be plenty of time to face them later.

The Captain cleared his throat loudly, to make sure that he had heard him approach.

The young man nodded his greetings, and the Captain seemed to relax.

"Your first time in Kirkwall, Milord?" he asked.

"Yes," the young man responded, "Though I do have family here."

The Captain nodded, accepting that answer. His passenger had hoped that would have been enough to send the man back to his duties, but that was not so tonight.

"Are you here on behalf of the Grey Wardens, ser?"

He gave the captain and arched look.

Where had the old sailor come up with **that** idea?

"Your sword," the captain said gesturing to the blade strapped to the young man's back. That blade is a warden weapon, is it not?"

Again the young man nodded.

The great sword, taken from the warden cache in Denerim had served him well during the final days of the blight. The griffons decorating the hilt, as well as the silverite blade had ended the life of many of a Darkspawn during the siege of Denerim.

After the battle, they had offered him a chance to join them, the grey wardens. The order needed to be rebuilt and several of those he had fought beside were now some of the highest ranking members of that storied order.

He had declined, not out of arrogance, but out of a desire to continue on with his more personal mission.

There would be plenty of willing recruits now that the Blight was over, the legend of the Grey Wardens would inspire many to join their ranks.

The young man had no desire to be among them.

He had tasted the glory he had always sought; now he wanted to go home.

Now he wanted to find his family.

"It was a gift," he told the captain, "From a friend."

Again the captain nodded.

"Ah," he said, "that explains much."

The two of them faced the city as it continued to grow in the distance. Again the young man felt the weight of his mission, wondered how best to start.

He figured that it would be best to start by trying to find his uncle. Mother had always said that her younger brother had taken over their family fortune; that he would likely be found in the old family estate.

Finding his uncle would be as good a place to start as any. If Mother and his sisters were here, they might already be there.

The thought made him pause; a horrible realization finally struck him.

To his family, he was dead, they had watched him die.

How could he explain what had happened?

Where could he even start?

They would be shocked of course. He feared what seeing him now might do to his mother's health. The girls would be furious with him, and they would have every right to be. The Blight had been over for months and he had not tried once to get word to them that he still lived.

His head lowered in shame.

What could he have told them? That he had been bewitched, that the woman that had saved him had made him her slave, bound him to serve the Grey Wardens, and that every time he had even thought of leaving the spells that she had used to bind him dragged him down to the very edge of death.

It was all true, but that spell had weakened with the death of the Archdemon, and as of a month ago, it had faded completely, otherwise he would not be standing here right now.

As for writing, who would he write to? Mother had never told her children how they might be able to get ahold of their uncle if they needed to.

For a moment he nearly told the Captain to turn the ship around.

As far as his family was concerned, he was dead.

Maybe…maybe it was better that way.

Maybe it would be better for everyone if he just stayed dead.

The ship maneuvered carefully into its berth. The captain had left him then, the man's need to attend to his duties far out weighing the curiosity he felt towards his passenger.

The young man took a deep breath, mustering his courage. His fingers curled into angry determined fists.

He was many things, not all of them good, but he was no coward. Finding his family was all he had thought about the last year, even with the witch's spell clawing at his heart.

He would not turn away now. He had stood with living legends against the Blight.

Surely facing Kirkwall would not be near as hard or dangerous.

The sailors secured the lines and lowered the anchor, the dockworkers on shore helped secure the gangplank so that the men of the ship could disembark.

The young man pulled his cloak tighter around himself; he adjusted his sword and his pack.

He took one step onto the gangplank and then another. The sights and sounds of port greeted his senses, welcoming him to the place that his mother had always said was their rightful home.

The captain glanced over the bow as he made his down the docks.

"Good luck Ser Carver," he called down, "Maker go with you."

The young man turned.

Ser Carver Hawke, one of the heroes of the Siege of Denerim and the Blight nodded back in thanks.

Then he turned and made his way toward the city.

It might have taken longer than he would have desired, but he had finally made it to Kirkwall.

Now he needed to find his family.

Mother, Bethany, and Moira were here somewhere, he could almost feel it.

He swallowed hard, pushing away fear and doubt.

They were here.

He would find them.

IOI

Carver was happy as he made his way up the last set of steps leading up to Lowtown. The docks here were not like the ones back in Denerim. The Denerim docks were dangerous, no one doubted that, but the Kirkwall docks were a different animal all together.

He could feel the eyes of many predators upon him. He did not hesitate however, showing any weakness in a place like this pretty much guaranteed that you would be attacked. As he had passed the Qunari compound the two heavily armed gate guards watched him with a cold evaluating stare. As if they could see any weakness in him just by the way he walked passed them.

Seeing the gray skinned giants brought back memories of his short service with the wardens' pet Qunari, the warrior who referred to himself as Sten.

Compared to these, Sten had been downright approachable, and once again Carver found himself wishing that one of the others had accompanied him on this journey, had Sten been here, he might have received a more positive reaction from the northern born warriors.

Of course, Sten had left their company long before Carver had, and even if he hadn't it would have been unlikely that the foreign giant would have chosen to come with him on this mission.

Carver increased his speed as sure he thought he was out of sight and earshot. He did not intend to stop until he reached the first inn he could find in the noble quarter, what the Captain of the ship had brought him here had called Hightown.

He had enough coin with him to afford a room for the least a few nights. It would be enough time to find his uncle he hoped. From there he could begin his search for his family in earnest, provided that they were not there already. He…

" **NO!"**

The sound of raised voices ahead of him stopped the young warrior cold, that and the sound of a body hitting the ground. The torches of Lowtown filled the street ahead of him with many dark shadows, but even they could not hide what was going on in front of him.

Carver's eyes narrowed.

 _So much for Kirkwall being a safe haven for Fereldans,_ he thought.

A young woman kneeled in the middle of four armed thugs. She glared at them holding up a wicked looking dagger before herself in defense. All four were armed and armored, but it was clear that the girl was not simply a damsel in distress…

…One of the thugs was rising, spitting curses under his breath even in the light of the torches Carver could see the man's nose was bloodied.

"Beech," the injured thug growled, "You'b broked by dose!"

The girl hissed.

"Try and touch me again, and I will do worse," she spat back.

"We should teach this little whore a lesson," one of the man's companions growled.

Another one chuckled.

"You will pay for that Mare," another growled, "by morning you're going to be the sorest piece of ass in the Free Marches."

They started to advance, as the girl tried to retreat, her blade still held in front of her.

"Come near me again," she warned, "And I will cut your little dragons off and feed them to the dogs!"

Carver growled.

He had seen enough.

" _Hold,"_ he called out, drawing his longsword.

The four thugs glanced up, seeing who had come to challenge them.

It was all the opportunity the girl needed, that briefest of distractions.

She struck.

She drove her foot into the back of one of the men's knees; he went down with a yelp. Another tried to seize her by the arm but got an elbow in the balls for his trouble.

Carver charged in.

One of the men took a swing at him with a dagger the blade caught him in the breast plate and skidded off. He back handed the man with his gauntlet, and then shoved him face first into the stone wall closest to them.

The man went down with barely a moan.

Broken nose tried to punch him, but Carver danced out of the way and put a knee into the man's gut, all the air rushed out of him as Carver drove the hilt of his sword into the back of the man's head; he collapsed in a heap on the cobbles.

The two remaining men were trying to struggle to their feet. The girl pushed the one she had caught in the crotch up against the wall, her dagger at his throat. The one she had caught in knee struggled to his feet only to be grabbed by Carver and sent tumbling into one of his fallen comrades.

The girl glared at the man she had pinned against the wall, his eyes were wide with fear.

The blade tightened against his throat.

"Don't…please," the man stammered.

The girl hissed with fury.

"Enough," Carver called out to her, "Don't."

The girl didn't look away from her prey, though she did tilt her head slightly.

"Would they have shown me any mercy?"

Carver frowned.

"They're beaten," he said, "No reason to have their blood on your hands if you don't have to."

He could almost see the girl considering his words, the blade remained pressed against the man's neck, one wrong move and…

The girl hissed, but took the knife away.

The man scurried away from her limping as he went, his friends crawled after him groaning and spitting curses at the girl and her would-be rescuer.

Carver sheathed his sword. He…

"Halt! What is going on back there?!"

Carver started to draw his blade again.

The girl's hand was on his arm, stopping him."

"Don't," she hissed.

Carver glanced at her.

"But…?"

"Trust me."

A man in battle armor jogged around the corner, sword and shield drawn. Carver had seen enough guards in his time in the Ferelden army to recognize a guard when he saw one.

The guard with the brown hair and long sideburns glanced around, he saw the blood on the walls, and the young woman at Carver's side, her cheek bruised, her nose and mouth both bloodied.

The girl smiled at him.

"Hello Guardsman Donnic," she said.

The guard, Donnic, gave her a curious look, his brow furrowed.

"Marissa," he said with a slight nod, his eyes once again fell on Carver.

"Would you like to tell me what is going on here?"

The girl gave him a sheepish look.

"I was on my way home," she answered, "Four ruffians followed me…"

She gave Carver a warm look.

"This brave knight came to my rescue."

Carver blinked.

For the first time he got a good luck at the girl. She was tall, that was the first thing he noticed. She and he stood almost eye to eye. Her features had a cat-like quality to them, large almond shaped golden brown eyes. Her mouth was small, but curled into a most adorable shape now that she was smiling. Her figure was slender yet shapely.

He also became aware of her fingers; her touch was feather light on his arm, lazily tracing circles against his skin.

Gooseflesh stood out on his arms, he feared that he was blushing slightly, the girl's slender body was as close to him as she could get, if her turned his head he could smell a blend of strawberries and burning hearth wood.

"Is this true, ser?"

Carver blinked and shook his head. The guard was addressing him.

He almost cursed.

Since when had he been so easily distracted?

The girl was pretty but…

"I heard this lady cry out," he answered Donnic; "I could not stand by and do nothing."

The girl's smile widened.

"It is nice to see that chivalry is not dead, is it not guardsman?"

The guard snorted.

"I've warned your boss about this before, Marissa," he said, "If Corff's going to have you working late; he needs to give you an escort home, or let you have a room for the night."

Donnic shook his head.

"Of course," he added, "Having to spend the night at the Hanged Man might be worse than the journey home."

The girl chuckled.

"True enough," she agreed.

Donnic turned to Carver.

"Thank you for helping," he said, "But you should not be wandering around Lowtown by yourself either, ser. There are men down here who would happily kill you for your boots, much less that blade that you're carrying.

Carver was about to saying something about being able to take care of himself. He did not appreciate the idea that the guard did not think he could handle himself if attacked.

The girl, Marissa, stopped him, her gentle touch soothing away any desire to talk back to the guardsman, appeasing his ego and his pride.

"I will stop by the keep tomorrow," she informed him, "I'll make sure to mention to the guard captain how quickly you came to my aid. I'm certain she will reward you."

Donnic blushed.

"It was nothing, Milady," he said, "I'm sure the Captain has more important things to do than hear about me."

Carver was not sure what had just passed between the two, but it was clear that, despite what the guard said, getting his captain's attention was something he wanted.

"Do you need an escort?" the guard asked, "I could see you safely home, Marissa, and you to Hightown Ser."

"I can escort the girl," Carver said moving between her and Donnic.

"I will be fine from there."

Donnic nodded.

"As you wish, Ser," he said, "Your life is your own. Have a pleasant evening, both of you."

They both nodded, but did nothing until the guard turned and walked back the way he had come.

Carver sighed.

He glanced at the girl he had saved, or at least aided. Her manner had changed completely in the guard's presence. He had seen her handle herself against the toughs…

He had helped, he did not doubt that, but from what he had seen the girl had been doing fairly well even before he showed up. In fact if it came to a fight between her and the guard, he would only give the guard the slightest of edges.

He had been around enough dangerous people to recognize one when saw them.

This girl…this Marissa…

She could be dangerous.

He shook his head at the retreating back of the guardsman.

"Are all guards in this city so protective?"

Marissa laughed.

"Donnic's a slice of alright," she cooed, "Fair and honest that one is. We're lucky Guardsman Tyree was not on duty tonight. He would have dragged us in for disturbing the peace, and only let us out when we paid him a nice fat bribe."

Carver gave her an arched look.

"That happens a lot here?"

She laughed lightly.

"Welcome to Kirkwall, Milord."

Carver snorted.

"I'm not a lord," he said, "My name is Carver."

She gave him warm smile, one that made him feel a little weak in the knees.

"Marissa Shore," she said with a slight curtsey.

"It is a pleasure to meet you Carver."

IOI

" _So that is how Carver Hawke arrived in Kirkwall?"_

 _Varric nodded._

" _Junior did not reveal himself to us until later, but yeah…that is how it happened."_

 _The Seeker paced before him, her finger to her lips._

 _She looked deep in thought._

" _You are certain this is how it happened?" she asked._

" _Heard it from Carver himself," Varric answered, "Why?"_

 _The Seeker turned to him._

" _The Shore girl, I've not heard about her in your stories before."_

 _Varric shrugged._

" _Not much interest in her," he said with a shrug, "Especially with everything going on around Moira and Bethany."_

 _The Seeker snorted, and returned to her pacing._

 _Varric fought the urge to sigh with relief._

 _It **was** a lie of course, but it was a minor one._

 _Carver had never minded Varric telling his tales, but he was a bit protective of Marissa, always had been. He did not want the dwarf's story seekers bothering her, bothering either of them truth be told._

 _The dwarf sighed._

 _It seemed that from the moment they met, Carver had been_ _ **protecting**_ _Marissa Shore, and later, when the truth about whom the girl truly was came out, that she was not simply another serving girl at the Hanged Man…"_

 _Carver had asked Varric to leave her out of it, and he had._

 _He knew what it was like to want to protect someone he cared about._

 _Maker knew…he was doing it right now._

" _We will get back to the Champion's brother and the Shore girl later," Cassandra promised, "what about the Champion and her search for blood mages; the ones who had kidnapped the Templar recruits?"_

 _Varric smiled slightly._

 _This was more familiar ground for him, **safer**._

 _Moira had gone into that place looking for a Templar…_

 _She had found…something_ _ **more**_ _, and like Carver's meeting with Marissa that day._

 _Nothing was ever the same again._


	26. The Sanctuary

**Chapter 26: The Sanctuary**

 _Maybe we should have waited for the Templars._

It had been Aveline's suggestion. If they were going to engage a coven of blood mages, then it stood to reason that they involve the Templars. The blood mages had taken their recruits; they would have a vested interest in stopping this Tarohne and her fellows.

None of the mages in the group agreed, Moira included.

Yes, the Templars would no doubt have helped, but it would have hobbled her ability to fight pretending to be just another mercenary. Plus, considering what she had heard about the knight-commander, she suspected that Meredith was the type to put everyone in the sanctuary to the sword and ask questions never. It would have ended the problem quickly, but at same time Keran, whose life they were trying to save, **if** he was still alive, would likely die in the crossfire.

Hawke hoped to prevent that, her deal was with the boy's sister, not the Templars, but as they encountered the first defenders of the sanctuary, she had to admit that Aveline's idea had had credence.

 _Maybe we should have waited for the Templars._

Moira thought that as a rage demon took a swipe at her head. The flaming demon howled in…well…rage while it slithered along the floor towards her, leaving a melted trail of sand and stone in its wake.

Not wishing to take any chances, she had summoned the full might of her flock for this attack. Considering what they had faced when merely speaking with Idunna, Hawke had no desire to be caught so off guard again.

Varric and Isabela had only just cleared the various mechanical traps that lined the entrance to the sanctuary when the first of the demons appeared. Most were lesser shades bound to protect the entrance against intruders. The shadow-like demons generated a cold that Moira could feel in her very bones. The heat generated by the rage demon leading these attackers caused Moira to sweat like she had been wandering for an hour through a burning desert.

She twirled her staff defensively and fell back. A shade emerged from the shadows, its freezing claws reaching for her. Moira swiped the monster's hand away with her staff just as the rage demon lunged, attempting to take advantage of the situation.

The creature yowled as a wave of freezing cold washed over it. Bethany stood only a few steps away, the chilling mist flowing from the tip of her old birchcore. Anders stood close to the younger Hawke, his magic bolstering the power of her attack, filling Bethany with its power.

Her sister's strike was just what Moira needed to get herself out of trouble. A pulse of force magic sent the nearly frozen demon tumbling back. She fired several shots from her own staff, reducing the shade that had tried to surprise her to dust.

Fenris charged in with a roar, his markings and great sword flashing as he engaged the wounded rage demon. His markings flashed with pale fire, burning any demon foolish enough to get too close. Bianca coughed bolt after bolt driving back the closest of the demons, giving their group time to form up and push forward, to drive the demons back.

Hawke shuddered as the light of their weapons revealed horrific details of what was going on here in the blood mages' sanctuary.

She had expected something like this, but that did not mean that it was easy for her to accept.

Several tables were set up along the back walls; upon those tables lay the bodies of both humans and elves all in differing stages of decay. Symbols had been carved onto some of those tables, symbols that were now glowing with absorbed blood and magic.

Across from some of the bodies were the remnants of suits of armor, some bearing the seal of the Templars. The sight did little to improve Hawke's spirits, they had come to this place to try to save Macha's brother, but from what they were seeing, it was clear that not all of the recruits taken had survived the experience.

Hawke flinched when she looked at those bodies.

Was Keran on one of these tables? Would she only be able to return a body to Macha?

Had she failed the girl and her brother…?

…Just like she had failed Carver?

Thinking of her little brother restored her resolve, not to mention fueled her righteous anger.

If Macha's brother was dead then the least they could do was avenge him, make sure that this blood mage, this Tarohne did not kidnap anyone else.

Such an act would not bring back the dead, but it would at least avenge them.

The last demon defending the entrance fell beneath Aveline's sword. She and Varric had only just caught up with them at the Hanged Man before heading down into this place. Aveline had admitted to have having to knock out Idunna as they waited for the Templars. The guard captain had feared that the girl was working up her courage to try something, to try and escape her fate.

"You should have slain her," Anders said bitterly, "It would have been a kindness, considering what that girl will now face in the Gallows."

"It was better that she live," Aveline retorted, "If she died, her secrets would have died with her. If these blood mages have more than one sanctuary, the Templars will determine that through the girl's interrogation. They will make sure that this madness ends here, and that no one else suffers because of these people."

The Guard Captain shook her head.

"These mages chose this path Anders," she reminded him, "Now they have to face the consequences."

The warden apostate snorted. Yet he did not say anything further.

He looked down at the crumbling bodies of the demons.

His fists curled into fists.

"It makes me so angry to see our brothers and sisters turn to demons and blood magic," he spat, "It all but makes sure that no one will see us as anything but dangerous, it all but guarantees that we will never be **free.** "

For the briefest of seconds, Anders eyes began to glow, the lines of magic under his skin began to appear.

Bethany went to his side, and placed a gentle hand on his forearm.

He glared at her, but that angry look faded under the gaze of her soft brown eyes.

"They will answer for this," She cooed, "Anders…try to stay calm. We need you clear headed, if we are to survive this."

She gently squeezed his arm.

"Anders," she repeated.

"Please."

The spirit magic that bound the apostate faded, Anders blinked looking confused for a few moments, but then found Bethany's gaze upon him, the soft smile on her face.

He let out a shuddering breath and nodded.

"Yes," he gasped, willing his temper to cool.

"I…I need to control myself. I…I will try."

She nodded and let her hand drift down his arm, finding his fingers and giving them a reassuring squeeze.

"Thank you," she purred.

He took her hand in his and brought them both to his lips.

"You are welcome, Milady," he said in between kisses.

" _ **More**_ than welcome," he added.

Despite the dangers they had yet to face, Bethany giggled and blushed.

Moira watched the display with a slight narrowing of her eyes, and a rush of big-sisterly concern.

She was not blind. She was becoming more and more aware of Bethany's…warmth when it came to Anders, she had said nothing because the former warden had discouraged it in past. He had made it clear on more than one occasion that Bethany would be wiser not to look upon him with affection. Justice's presence…the spirit…it made him dangerous, and he knew that.

Now, if Moira was not mistaken, Anders seemed to be _reconsidering_ that stance. His words and this one minor deed seemed to confirm that he no longer wished to keep his distance from the affection of others…

…Especially…her little sister.

Moira said nothing. In the end it was Isabela that reminded the two mages that they had come down here for a reason, a reason she would like to see dealt with quickly.

There would be plenty of time for doe-eyed stares after they had found out what had happened to this Templar recruit they were looking for.

The two backed away, though Moira could still see the rosy glow on her sister's cheek, and the gentle smile as Anders acknowledged it.

Hawke did her best to stifle a frown.

She would have to speak with Anders when this wall all over. Remind her comrade that she did not wish to see her little sister hurt. Bethany would likely complain that she was being overly protective, might even ask her sister to stay out of her affairs.

Still…Moira thought it would be better to be safe than sorry.

She would also ask Varric to keep an eye on Anders for her. She trusted him, but that did not mean that she would just stand by silently while he toyed with her sister's heart. Varric would keep an eye on things for her. He…

The shadowed chamber filled with hisses and snarls.

The group turned to see a group of undead emerge from a shadowed tunnel in front of them, while at the same time, several of the bodies lying on the tables also began to rise.

Varric and Isabela readied their weapons. Fenris snarled and prepared to charge the monsters while Aveline took up a defensive position in front of Moira, Merrill, Bethany, and Anders.

Again, Bethany and Anders struck first. He used his spells to bolster her own, while she summoned fire and ice down on their targets. Merrill used Dalish magic to ensnare the largest group of corpses.

Moira blasted away at them while Fenris and Aveline waded into the thickest of the beasts.

Once again the sanctuary filled with the sounds of battle. Once again, Moira and her allies engaged the blood mages' puppets.

And once again Moira thought…

Maybe we should have waited for the Templars.

She sent another blast of force magic into an undead archer, shattering the creature.

Too late to worry about that now, she thought.

Far too late.

IOI

The battle continued; more traps, more undead, and more demons sought to block their path.

Isabela and Varric did a good job of sniffing out the physical traps, and Fenris was more than up to the task of dealing with any undead that got in their way. Aveline kept Hawke and the others safe while they dealt with the demons.

Finally, they entered a large room, a room far larger than they had seen since first breaching this places defenses.

Moira shuddered.

If she had to guess, she would say that they had found the heart of the sanctuary.

The place felt….wrong; she had no other word for it. It reminded her a bit of the graveyard on Sundermount. The veil was thin here, very thin, almost two thin. She could feel the dark magic here, almost taste it, on her tongue.

Bethany and Anders both looked a little ill as well, Anders more than her sister, possibly because of his connection to justice, Merrill…the Dalish girl looked almost…pleased, in fact, like she was beaming, as a blood mage, someone who had dealt with a demon, the energies in this place likely no longer bothered her.

For Moira it was yet another why they needed to keep a close eye on their Dalish friend. Merrill always seemed so innocent what with her talk of getting lost, and her refusal to see the dark things in the Alienage, even when they confronted her.

Her reaction to this place, proved more than anything else why the girl needed to be watched.

Near the back of the chamber, they saw something. It reminded her a bit of a butterfly cocoon, a cocoon made of smoke and magic. She could just make out the shape of a person within it, but the glow it was putting off prevented her from seeing any details.

"What do we have here?" a shrill voice called out from the chamber to their left. A woman in mage robes emerged, flanked by three or four of her fellows, all similarly garbed. The brown haired woman smiled at them, even though her right eye twitched nervously. Even if she had not had such a nervous tic, her eyes would be enough to disturb anyone, they almost seemed to glow with a strange light, a wild eyed stare that took in everything, but gave nothing back.

"More fodder for our experiments," she said clasping her hands with joy. Her expression turned to a sneer as she noticed Moira's staff.

"Perhaps one of the demons will find you suitable."

Hawke sneered right back.

"Tarohne right," she inquired, "I don't suppose I need to ask you 'what in Andraste's name is going on here?'"

The blood mage grinned.

"You will discover girl," she growled, "That demons can do so much more than possess mages and corpses, with a little help, they can control anyone I ask, any Templar, any noble…"

She giggled.

"Any well-meaning meddler."

"Always demons," Anders spat, his voice filled with both venom and sarcasm.

"Can't you fools ever say **no**?"

Tarohne took exception to that.

"I'm **not** some helpless waif that went running to a demon. I **sought** them out, like the mages of old."

Her grin returned.

"There was a time that magic ruled Thedas. The Tevinters wielded absolute power; demons were their allies, held in check by power and knowledge."

The woman glared at Hawke and her friends.

"I can do more with a wave of a hand than a single Templar could do in a lifetime, and yet they command us, _**us!**_ "

The blood mage shook her head.

"It is _**absurd!**_ "

Tarohne crossed her arms over her chest.

" _ **We**_ should rule this city. We should rule you _**all!**_ "

Moira snorted at the woman's rant. For all their power, the Tevinter Imperium had been helpless against the Blight, and then when Andraste had begun her march, they had realized how far their power had waned.

Hawke shook her head.

The world was no longer a collection of tribes and peasants that mages could dominate, it had grown, and in that growth had become a danger to anyone who wielded magic. It was a world where they were outnumbered at least a hundred to one.

You could not turn back time. The days of magical rule were over.

If only fools like these blood mages would see that.

"And this is supposed to be better?" Hawke asked, pointing at the cocoon, "I saw what you did to that Templar boy Wilmod, whatever you put inside him did not seem that interested in obeying orders, it fled as soon as it got the chance. Whatever you had hoped to accomplish, you have failed, this is madness…simply madness."

Moira sneered at her.

"Maybe it is a good thing you're bonking mad," she said dryly, "It makes what we have to do next that much easier."

Tarohne's confidence seemed to fade for a moment, but then returned quickly, along with her grin.

"Good," she cackled, "Good the demons like spirit."

She drew her staff; those behind her did as well.

"Kill the vessels only if you must," she ordered.

Hawke and her fellow mages shielded their party the best they could.

Tarohne and her minions struck.

The shield held as against the blood mages' stunning spells and mind blasts. Once again Fenris leaped forward, his sword swung with the purest of desires, to deal death to these demon summoning fools. More shades emerged, along with a powerful looking demon; it looked like a woman, but with violet colored skin and long delicate horns.

"Desire demon," Anders called out. "Deal with it quickly!"

The mages focused their attack on this powerful foe, while the rogues and warriors dealt with Tarohne and her shades. Varric fire Bianca, while Isabela danced in and out of battle, her blade finding weak spots on their opponents with every strike.

Anders bolstered their power, Moira felt a wave of soothing energy wash over her, empowering her body and her spells. Ice, fire, and force magic overwhelmed and crippled the desire demon before it had a chance to bring its more powerful spells to bear.

Fenris was a terror. He struck down two of Tarohne's followers before they barely had a chance to react. The leader herself fell back, twirling her staff defensively, but against Fenris, she was a leaf caught in a tornado.

"You must be stopped," the elf snarled.

"You **will** be stopped!"

The blood mage snarled and unleashed a mind blast against him. Fenris staggered, but the attack only seemed to fuel his rage.

He lunged at Tarohne.

She back handed him with more strength than she should have been able to use. Fenris flew back and struck the wall hard.

The woman laughed, it was a laugh that was far deeper and more powerful than it should have been.

Tarohne began to change. Her robes tore, her flesh seemed to bubble and stretch, like something far too big was trying to squeeze under her skin, something dark and dangerous.

The weakness of the veil, in this room proved her undoing, her willingness to work with demons had left her open to possession, now a demon rushed in.

The blood mage was becoming an abomination!

The Tarohne thing raised her hands waves of magic shook the sanctuary bringing down dirt and stone from above them. The mages that Fenris had slain twitched and began to rise, summoned by the call of the monster that had been their leader.

"You are mine," the abomination crowed.

" **YOU ARE ALL** _ **MINE!"**_

Aveline charged the creature, it hissed and swung its long clawed fingers at her, the metal of her shield squealed as they raked over its surface.

Moira and Bethany worked together to shield their allies as the ceiling continued to crumble. If the creature that had been Tarohne did not stop, it was likely that it would bring down the very ceiling down upon their heads.

Anders and Merrill struck at the monster; Dalish and circle taught magic pounded the Tarohne thing ceaselessly. Isabela dealt with the undead trying to aid their former leader.

Moira strained under the assault. She managed to hold her shield spell, but it would not take long for it to weaken under the demonic assault.

Her eyes narrowed.

She had no more time.

They needed to stop Tarohne now, or they would all likely die down here.

Hawke pushed out with her shield, using her will to strengthen it, but also to send it higher, up into the damaged ceiling. She could not stop the rocks from falling, but…

She smiled grimly.

Perhaps she could redirect them.

She drew deeper into herself, summoning more mana and guiding it with her will, the shield she had summoned changed. Force magic warped it as it dug into the stone above them.

It was at that moment that a large section of the roof caved in, it struck Hawke's shield spell and slid off, rolling down faster than even she had intended. The abomination, so lost in her attack and her own madness did not even try to flee as Hawke's power did its work.

Tarohne stood straight and proud as the first of the heavy rocks struck her, staggering her, the creature hissed and tried to move, but it was struck again, and again, and again.

Moira released her shield she blasted at the weakened ceiling above them, the section that still held over the head of the demonic creature that had once been a blood mage.

The weakened ceiling collapsed, dropping heavy stone and wooden brace down upon to Tarohne. The creature shrieked but had nowhere to go.

Heavy stone came down hard on her body; the abomination's cries were drowned out by rumble of falling stone.

When it was over, another cave in had buried a section of Darktown. Beneath it somewhere lay the body of the abomination that had been Tarohne.

Those above had likely retreated, escaping the fate that had befallen the sanctuary's now fallen mistress.

Hawke reached out with her magic, trying to determine if the abomination had survived.

She felt no trace of the creature's presence.

The monster was dead.

The threat had ended.

Slowly her companions began to emerge from the rubble, Bethany and Anders had managed to protect them the best they could, they were all dirty and bruised, but they were all still alive.

"Uhhh," Isabela groaned, shaking her head.

"Let's not do that that again, okay Hawke?"

Merrill tried to help Fenris, but the Tevinter elf pushed her away, He looked wounded, but was clearly not in the mood to accept healing just yet.

Anders stood close by, waiting for the elf's anger to cool, so that he could help him.

Moira made her way over the rubble, toward the cocoon the blood mages had created, with Tarohne dead it should have been simple to free the lone prisoner from his or her captivity.

Varric, now limping slightly, made his way over to her.

"Can we get him out?" the dwarf asked.

Hawke raised her hands and began to gesture, she felt weak, and her heart and head were both pounding, but in this she thought that she had just enough strength.

She could free the prisoner and then.

POP!

The cocoon shattered, spilling its prisoner out onto the broken stone floor. Hawke had been standing to close, the prisoner inside fell right on top of her.

She struggled against the weak and whimpering form. She managed to shift position enough so that the poor soul's head was now resting in her lap.

Moira's voice caught in her throat.

The young man…looked familiar. Both his blond hair and nose were similar enough to Macha's to hint at who he was. His shoulders were broad, his arms strong and well-muscled.

Hawke reached down and touched his chest; his heart was fluttering like a scared bird, his breathing harsh and irregular.

Moira gently touched his face, letting healing magic flow into the poor boy, though the term 'boy' was probably **not** correct. He looked about her age, maybe a year or so younger, no more.

This was no boy; this was a man…as handsome in his way as Macha had been pretty.

Hawke glanced down; she saw no sign of outward injury. He looked fine.

Her eyes widened in shock.

 _He was also quite_ _ **naked**_ _._

She blushed furiously, and looked away, suddenly feeling very self-conscious.

The young man groaned, and opened his blue eyes. They found hers and seemed to focus.

"Keran?" she asked.

He nodded slightly; clearly the young recruit was still weak from his ordeal.

The others had joined her then; Isabela smirked at the sight of their leader cradling a naked Templar recruit.

"Need a hand their Hawke?" the pirate asked.

Aveline told her to shut up, but Moira only heard the words in passing.

All her attention was focused on the wounded man before her.

He gripped her hand, even as healing magic flowed out of it.

"Can you hear me," Hawke asked, "Say something if you can?"

Keran's fingers left hers; he lightly stroked her chin, looking up at her with a mix of gratitude and awe.

When he spoke, his words only deepened her blush and the sense of awkwardness she felt.

"Beautiful," he murmured, lost in her eyes.

Moira snorted slightly.

The boy was clearly delirious, but still…still.

She smiled slightly.

 _Oh my._


	27. Keran

**Chapter 27: Keran**

"You're frightened."

It was a statement, not a question; Moira could see it in the young man's eyes as they entered the Gallows. The Templar recruit may have been rescued, but now, he seemed more scared of his fellows than he had after they had first pulled him out of that magical cocoon in Darktown.

Keran gave her a nervous smile.

"I'm fine Milady. Thanks…thanks to you."

Moira tried to accept that, she wanted to accept that.

Yet…for some reason…she couldn't.

She thought she knew what a Templar was. She had spent her life running from Templars. Yet with Keran…she had seen something she had never expected to find in one of the order…

…Vulnerability.

He had been so…helpless when she had found him. He had reached out; clung to her like a drowning man clings to a piece of driftwood. She could not forget that, could not forget seeing that. Even when he had changed back into his uniform, she found that she did not see a Templar to be feared. All she saw was a scared young man, not much older than herself. After what he had endured…she found herself feeling…sympathy for him.

Having such feelings was unexpected.

She never thought she would ever feel sympathy for a Templar. All her life she had lived in fear of them. Fear that they would find out who and what she was and drag her away from the circle, away from her family.

The fact that the order could…inspire such fear in one of their own…

…It was… _enlightening_ to say the least.

"It will be alright," Keran murmured under his breath, "Stay calm, stay calm, just stay calm."

Moira chuckled nervously.

"Are you talking to me?" she said with a wry smile.

He glanced her way, concern coloring his face.

"You and me both," he confessed.

His words made her brow furrow.

 _She was not sure what to make of that._

After the rescue, Hawke had sent Aveline to let the Templars know that Keran was safe; she had also sent word to the young man's sister. Macha had hired them after all.

Hawke felt it important that the girl be there when her brother reported back to his superiors, whatever might happen next, it would be better that he had family around to help him deal with it.

She had brought Varric, Aveline and Fenris with her as well, just in case.

Keran had seen her using magic. She had used her powers to heal him after all. That realization sent a chill of pure unrelenting fear down her spine. Despite what sympathy she felt for him.

Had she made a mistake, making sure that he made it this far?

What if he tried to turn her in? He had said nothing about her use of magic in Darktown. Of course, he had not been truly lucid during that moment either.

Perhaps he did not remember. Perhaps he did not realize what had happened? Maybe he thought he had been dreaming. If he did…if he did…?

She swallowed hard.

She was not sure what she would do if he _**did**_ remember?

Anders had had his own ideas of course.

"When you speak to Ser Cullen," he advised, "Try to downplay the whole demon thing."

 _A wise idea_ , Moira had thought.

"Don't say anything too much, sister," Bethany had added, "If the Knight-Captain starts preaching, just smile and nod."

Another good idea, she thought, no reason to draw more attention to herself than she had to.

Once again she glanced up at Keran; the young man was clearly on edge. Once again their eyes briefly met.

She tried to give him a reassuring smile, tried and failed.

Yet, for the briefest of moments their fingers brushed against each other, they did not hold hands, not really, but…

She looked away quickly.

It was somehow…reassuring to know that even a Templar could feel fear in the face of his own order. Having trained with his fellows, the recruit no doubt knew what would happen to him if the order came to see him as a threat, or at the very least a risk after what happened.

She knew what Templars did to those touched by magic and demons.

Keran most likely knew that as well.

Moira realized that it might be better for her if she did nothing. If the Templars chose to eliminate the young man it would not be her fault. She had taken this job on behalf of Macha, not them. If the order chose to act, it would not be on her head.

Yes, it would have been wiser to let the order's blade fall where the order willed.

There was no reason for her to stick her own neck out if she did not have to, no reason at all.

Cullen was waiting for them in the Gallows courtyard. Hawke was pleased to see Macha there as well. Keran brightened at seeing his sister, even raised his hand in greeting. When they were close enough the girl went to him, pulling him into a tight embrace, not an easy thing considering he was wearing his trainee uniform, a uniform that had thankfully survived the destruction of the sanctuary.

Hawke looked at the Knight-Captain, she was not sure what Aveline's summons had said, but from the look on the man's face he expected an explanation.

She tried to compose in her head the best way to do this diplomatically, but being here, under the gaze of the Knight-Captain left her frazzled, her wit came out even though it was not appropriate.

"Good news and bad news," she said dryly, "Good news, Keran's fine, bad news…your recruits have been infiltrated by demons."

She knew the words were a mistake the second they left her mouth.

Cullen's eyes widened with fear and concern.

"Maker's breath," he gasped.

Macha, another good Andrastian, backed away from her own brother, making Hawke regret her flippant comment even more.

"Demons," the girl whispered, "the recruits have been taken over by demons?!"

Keran gave her a desperate look, his face turned paler than it already was.

"I'm fine Macha. It…it is all right," he turned quickly to Ser Cullen," they tried to break me ser, but I did not give in. I accepted nothing that they offered."

The Knight-Captain's expression was both cold and suspicious.

"Be that as it may, recruit, The Knight-Commander will need to be informed of this."

Moira tried to come to the boy's defense, though she did not really understand why.

Wasn't it best that the blade just fall on him and be done?

Wasn't it?

"The girl most responsible for delivering the recruits to the coven responsible for all this has been turned over to you," she reminded him, "and my allies and I destroyed their Sanctuary, you may send people to check it if you wish, but Keran was not broken by them. He is fine."

Cullen's eyes fell on Hawke again, and once more she regretted speaking up.

Just smile and nod, she thought.

 _Just smile and nod._

"Your help in this matter is appreciated Serah, but the order must verify what you say for itself."

The man's frown deepened.

"Mages **are** dangerous; they are not like you and me. They can destroy whole cities in a fit of pic."

His zealous words even made Macha wince.

"Surely that is a bit harsh, Knight-Captain?"

Cullen shuddered.

"I was in the Ferelden Circle, Madame. I saw what leniency can lead to."

"Not all mages are bad," Hawke said before she could stop herself, "I have friends who are mages. They don't wish to harm or take over anything."

Again Cullen gave her that cold look, and again she realized that she was walking on thin ice.

Stop it, she thought.

You're talking yourself into the pyre!

She could feel her friends' eyes upon her. She could only imagine what they thought of all this. Aveline stood by her, what they had faced together during the Blight had bonded them in something more than friendship. Varric, despite his roguish tendencies took care of those he did business with. He hid it well, but he cared what happened to people. Fenris was…

She frowned.

She could not guess what was going through the Tevinter elf's head. He had no love for magic or mages in general. She liked to think that he had come to respect her, but…

He would shed no tears if she was discovered here.

Keran stepped in front of her, shielding her.

"We are right to remain vigilant ser," the recruit said quickly, "I felt the evils that magic can inflict, but power…any power is can be abused."

Cullen held the younger man's gaze, for the briefest of moments something passed between them.

Moira could not guess what the knight-Captain went through in the Ferelden circle; she had heard only tales of what the Hero of Ferelden had stopped when he came to the Circle.

The bards said that Surana Stormbreaker had stopped the abomination Uldred from releasing countless horrors on a world already beset by horrors.

In the Knight-Captain's eyes she got a small hint of what those horrors might have been. She wished that there was something that she could say to free the Templar from what he had faced, but she was just enough of a realist to recognize the impossibility of that.

She was surprised when Cullen sighed and shook his head, he looked weary.

"I envy your innocence recruit. I once thought as you do, that magic was no more threatening than a royal edict."

His expression changed.

"Uldred taught me otherwise, but perhaps, with education, mages could understand why the chantry works, and then perhaps they would not so willing accept the unnatural. Perhaps they would understand why they need to be watched."

Moira did not speak; she did not trust herself not to say something she might regret.

"We shall investigate this 'Sanctuary' determine if the threat has truly been ended."

He turned to Keran.

"Unfortunately, recruit, we cannot be sure that you escaped the demons' influenced unscathed. I'm afraid you are no longer welcome among the order."

The officer's eyes narrowed.

"In fact, we may have to go farther, to make sure that this evil has ended."

Keran's face paled.

His sister stepped in front of him.

"You cannot think that Knight-Captain. My brother is fine. He is safe."

"I took nothing they offered, Ser," the recruit repeated, "I did not give into their desires."

"We performed our own tests on Keran," Hawke blurted out, "He is not possessed."

Cullen's cold expression once again found Moira's eyes, making her wince.

Me and my big mouth, she thought.

"I can only guess what 'tests' you might have performed, Milady, to be so sure of what you claim."

Moira said nothing more.

In truth, she had had the same concerns that Cullen had about Keran. She had no way of knowing if Keran had…an extra passenger inside his head.

Merrill provided her with one.

The Dalish had kneeled down next to the recruit as he lay recovering from his ordeal. She reached out for him, on her left hand she wore a strange looking black iron ring, a ring covered with tiny sharp spikes. Merrill had run that ring across Keran's chest, drawing his blood.

She rose and licked the blood from the spike.

Moira and the others watched as the elf shuddered her eyes rolled back into her head, leaving only white showing.

Merrill shuddered again, and opened her eyes, when she did she was once again the too innocent naïve Dalish they had taken from her clan, and she was smiling broadly.

'I sense no demonic forces," she said grinning, "He is clean."

The elf made her way back to the others; she seemed oblivious to the looks everyone was giving her, Moira's included.

In her weaker moments Moira wondered if the girl they thought of as Merrill was just an act. Perhaps the Dalish was not as innocent as she appeared. If that was true…

They might have let their own doom into their midst.

Anders had shaken his head in the elf's direction. He had his own opinions about her choices, but kept them to himself.

Hawke realized the need to take a closer look at her elven friend's motivations, her true motivations.

She would need to discover them, no matter the cost.

Of course, that was a search for another day; right now she had to deal with Keran.

The young man gave his captain a desperate look.

"Please reconsider this, ser," he said, "I need this position, without it my sister will not be able to eat, I've been training for five years."

Keran glanced at Hawke, for a moment she feared that he would blurt out who and what she was, perhaps in a desperate attempt to save himself and his place within the order.

Yet…the young recruit fell silent, it seemed that he was going to accept his banishment from the order.

Once again Moira felt something rising up from deep within her.

She knew what it was like to lose everything.

She would not let someone else suffer needlessly, if she could.

"Keran," she said meekly.

He looked at her.

She took a deep breath.

In those blue eyes, she found strength she did not know she possessed.

"If…if the order will no longer have you," she said quickly, "I might be able to help."

Varric shot her a look.

"Hawke…what are you…?"

She smiled weakly.

"We are planning an expedition into the deep roads. We are sure to encounter darkspawn magic along the way. Someone trained in the Templar disciplines would be welcome on such a dangerous, yet…profitable, task."

Keran blinked, likely unsure of what he had been offered.

Macha gasped and looked worried.

Cullen seemed…resigned.

"You could do worse, Milady," he informed Hawke, "Recruit Keran's experience likely disqualifies him from joining the order, but his service record, provided that you believe that he is free of demonic influence…"

"I'm certain," Hawke said quickly.

"Then you could not ask for more qualified help."

Moira turned to the recruit.

"It would be dangerous," she said, "But you could make enough on this journey to set yourself up quite comfortably."

Keran looked between her and his sister. Clearly the young man was debated what was best for him and his family.

He lowered his head, and placed his hand over his heart.

"If you would have me Lady Hawke, I would be honored."

Macha gave her brother a worried look, no doubt worried if Hawke had saved him from one horror only to deliver him into the hands of another.

"You…you have my thanks, messere," she said curtseying to Hawke, "But…but I fear that with Keran no longer a member of the order, I will not be able to reward you properly."

Moira shook her head, about to say something along the lines of Keran's aid being an excellent start to repaying such a debt.

Cullen had other ideas.

"Allow me, Madame," he said.

He turned to Hawke.

"You have the orders thanks in ending the threat of these blood mages. I will see that you receive not only what Lady Macha promised, but a reward from us as well, it is the least we can do."

Hawke was speechless.

She had feared that she had sacrificed profit for service. Now it seemed that they would be collecting double, and from the pockets of the Templars no less.

She fought the urge to laugh.

The Maker had a strange sense of humor indeed.

Keran smiled at her.

"I will not let you down, mistress," he said.

Moira's heart fluttered under that warm smile, though she had no idea why.

She dismissed it as simple gratitude.

They left the Gallows then, the six of them, Hawke her companions, Keran and his sister. Moira's pockets filled with Templar gold.

Varric walked along beside her. The dwarf was grinning from ear to ear.

Hawke looked down at her companion.

"What?"

The dwarf chuckled.

"So," he said, "We got ourselves a Templar for a hireling?"

Moira shrugged.

"It seems that way."

He nodded, a thought suddenly occurring to him.

Varric smirked. He said only one thing more, a phrase that made even Hawke frown.

"Blondie is just going to love this,"

Moira pursed her lips.

Varric's sarcasm aside, she could not help but agree.

The dwarf was right.

Anders was not going to be happy.

Not one bit.


	28. Hanged

**Chapter 28: Hanged**

"So, what is your story pretty lady?"

Varric smiled broadly, and the girl sat his pint down on the table.

"Who exactly is Marissa Shore?"

The serving girl lowered her head demurely and blushed slightly. It was a reaction that Varric was quite used to here in the Hanged Man. He was not above a little innocent flirting when it came to finding out who was working around him. Since he preferred to carry out most of his business here, it was a good idea to make sure that none of the servers were being paid to keep an eye on him, either by Bartrand or the merchant's guild.

 _Not that most of the cheap bastards would spare the coin_ , he thought, _still…better safe than sorry._

He was smart enough to protect his business interests…like any dwarf.

The new girl laughed dismissively.

"I'm...I'm nothing special Master Tethras," she said, "Just a humble tavern girl who came here a desperate refugee."

She smiled slightly.

"I was lucky enough to be with a party that had the money to bribe the Templars to let us in. Since then…I've been on my own."

He nodded slightly at that answer; it had confirmed what his contacts had discovered. The dark haired girl **was** a Ferelden refugee, you could tell that by the accent alone. She had arrived in the service of some low level Ferelden lord who had lost his home to the Blight. Whether she was a member of his original household staff was not clear, the man had ordered the crew serving him to bring as many refugees with them as possible.

A kind man to be sure, the dwarf thought, most lords he knew wouldn't lift a finger to help common folk in need, and this one had done his best to save as many people as he could.

Impressive.

Of course, being kind had not saved the man in the end, he had suffered a wound during his flight, it had either had not been bad, or the man had chosen not to tell anyone, but the results had been the same.

The lord had died of some sickness, likely contracted from the darkspawn. Those taken into his service had been tossed aside, most ending up the doorstep of Lirene, the Ferelden born business woman who was doing her best to help her countrymen. Miss Shore had been luckier than most, she had been both attractive enough and desperate enough to take a job from Corff. The girl's grace and pretty face might have caused problems with the Hanged Man's other servers, but Shore was so humble and friendly that none of the other girls gave her any thought.

As for Marissa herself, she was polite, sweet, and agile enough to avoid the problems that sprung up during the Hanged Man's busy times. Twice Varric had seen her avoid getting accidently struck in a fist fight, the second time she had done so while pushing two chairs out of the way, preventing them from getting damaged, and all the while she had not spilled a drop of the drinks she had been bringing to a pair of customers in the back room.

That feat had gotten his attention.

Shore was skilled, she moved with a sureness and agility that went far beyond some lowborn girl working in a tavern.

It had made him suspicious enough to tell his contacts to dig deeper into the girl's history. So far they had turned up nothing.

"Will that be all Master Tethras," she asked politely.

He nodded dismissively, but glanced at her as she headed back towards the bar.

The girl was far too…something he was not quite sure of to be working here. There was definitely a story behind those pretty brown eyes of hers. He would set his contacts to work on, find out how she came into that lord's employ, and what she might have done before that.

Some might have caused such a response paranoid, but that was not it.

He no longer saw her as a personal threat, but she had made him curious.

There was a story here, he was sure of it.

And Varric Tethras loved nothing more than a good story.

The door to the Hanged man opened. Hawke, Isabela, Merrill, Fenris and Keran made their way inside. The former Templar recruit drew a few looks from the other patrons, though he no longer wore the armor of the order, he did still carry a Templar shield.

Most of those that frequented the Hanged Man looked away when they got a good look at his armor, it was clearly not Templar issue, it had in fact been purchased from an armor merchant right down the street. The Templars might have paid Hawke for his rescue, but that did not mean that they considered the boy important enough to let him keep his old uniform.

Varric paused as he got a good look at them; the five looked like they had just crawled out of some pit. Their armor and faces were dirty and all were nursing more than a few small burns.

Hawke plopped down at Varric's table while Fenris and Keran went up to fetch them all drinks. Isabela and Merrill joined them a few seconds later, both of them looking a little worse for wear.

Varric gave them a warm smile.

"Hard day ladies?"

All three glared at him, he raised his hands in surrender, not wishing to get a tongue lashing from anyone. Well…maybe Merrill's would be alright, Daisy did not have a mean bone in her entire body.

If she did yell at him, it would likely be the nicest rebuke he had ever received.

Hawke sighed heavily.

"I hate dragons," she mumbled under her breath.

Isabela rolled her eyes.

"It will be easy," Isabela said in a sing song mocking voice, "We will go out to the bone pit, and see what is going on. Hubert is likely making a mountain out of a mole hill."

The pirate queen gave Moira an angry snort.

"So much for that idea Hawke."

Moira shrugged.

"How was I to know that Hubert's miners had opened up a dragon's nest?"

"We did not have to clean it out," Isabela reminded her.

"It was what we were paid to do."

"And I suppose the fact that Keran hit you with his puppy dog eyes and said we had a responsibility to keep people safe had nothing to do with it?"

Again Hawke shrugged, but she did look up nervously for a moment, hoping that Keran had not heard Isabela's comment.

She sighed slightly when she realized that he had not.

"Dragons," Isabela said shaking her head, "I' m going to smell like burnt lizard for a week."

"They were kind of pretty," Merrill chimed in, but lowered her eyes sheepishly as Hawke and Isabela turned their glares on her.

"Or they would have been had they not been trying to eat us. That would have been nice."

"I hope that Hubert at least paid you well for your trouble," Varric inquired.

"Couple of sovereigns," Isabela informed him.

"Though he did offer to make me a partner," Hawke added quickly.

Varric smiled.

Hawke having a stake in the bone pit was not a bad thing. The mine had never failed to produce a profit, despite its rather dark reputation; people had made their fortunes there.

"Hubert is going to have to rebuild," Isabela reminded him, "It will take time before Hawke sees a single coin from that place."

"Still," Varric shrugged, "As a long term investment, it isn't a bad business to get involved in."

He smiled at Moira.

"Well done Hawke."

The mage blushed slightly.

"Actually I was more interested in helping the miners," she said, "they're all Fereldan you see; they could use a protector and an advocate."

Again Varric nodded.

He did not know Hubert personally, but knew his business practices from his dealings with the guild. The man did not think much of his Fereldan born workers, not surprising considering that he was Orlesian and all the bad blood between the two countries.

Hawke would at least give them a fair shake.

Keran and Fenris returned with their drinks. Fenris sat as far away from Merrill as he could while Keran squeezed in next to Moira. Their hands touched slightly, and Hawke jerked hers away before the young man could notice.

Varric might have been wrong, but he thought the mage was blushing slightly.

The dwarf smiled at the former Templar.

"So," he said conversationally, "dragons huh?"

Keran nodded.

"It was a good fight," the young man said, "no more innocents will die at those monsters hands."

Isabela chuckled.

"I wouldn't call half the men who worked those mines _innocents_ , sweet thing."

Keran shrugged.

"With all due respect, Captain, I try not to look down on people," he said, "the people that work those mines are hard men, but that does not mean that they do not deserve mercy or the Maker's grace. They are only trying to feed themselves and their families."

The former Templar sighed.

"The job they do is dangerous enough; the least we can do is make it a little _less_ dangerous."

"Well said," Fenris answered raising his tankard, rare did the Tevinter elf respond when they were just sitting around relaxing.

Hawke took that as a good sign. That Fenris at least accepted Keran into their ranks.

Moira smiled at him, pleased by his answer. Keran looked away shyly.

Merrill smiled as well. Keran was different from the rest of their companions, as a Templar she likely thought he was going to be angry or distrustful of her magic, so far he had not even said a word.

"You're nice." She informed him.

Isabela chuckled again. She liked the fact that Keran chose to address her by her former title, even if her ship was sitting at the bottom of the sea.

She downed her drink in one hard gulp, slamming the tankard down.

"Can't argue with that," she said, "Well, if no one else needs me, I think I'm going to find a nice hot bath, and maybe…"

She gave Keran and Moira a sly look.

"Maybe one of the **hard** men that we saved today, I could use a little entertainment after all the violence today."

She gave them a cheery wave.

"Have fun all."

Isabela swaggered out of the Hanged Man, more than a few of the men watching as she passed.

Moira rolled her eyes.

Keran coughed.

"The captain," he said, "She is…um…an interesting woman."

Varric laughed at that.

"Aveline would have a few more…interesting words to describe her, if she were here."

"Whore, chief among them," Fenris said bluntly.

Keran removed one of his gauntlets, Moira gasped at how red and blistered his wrist was.

The boy tried to give her a reassuring look.

"It isn't bad," he said, "my shield dealt with most of the heat."

Varric frowned.

"Blondie could take care of that for you," Varric said, "If he was here."

Hawke frowned.

"Where is Anders? He is normally in here around now, isn't he?"

"Been having a lot of people in his clinic lately," the dwarf informed her, "weather has been turning cold at night, lot of the people in Darktown have been getting sick."

"Hope he is not pushing himself too hard," Moira said, "Even magic has its limits, Anders' power isn't infinite."

"Blondie knows that Hawke. He came and got Sunshine this afternoon. He has been doing that lately, when she is not out with you. She is likely down their right now."

Hawke's expression changed. It became…colder.

"Oh,' she said in a frosty voice, "I had not realized that they were spending any time together."

Varric winced.

Bethany had asked him not to let that slip out, but at the same time, Hawke had asked him to keep an eye on her. They were so close to getting the expedition off the ground, and Anders had a part to play in that, both his maps and his skills as a warden would come in quite handy.

If things went bad between him and Hawke over Bethany things could get ugly.

"They are adorable together," Merrill cooed, oblivious to the look on Hawke's face, "He can be quite sweet, when he is not ranting about the Templars."

Keran gave her an arched look.

Merrill's green eyes widened.

"Not that there is anything wrong with the Templars," she said quickly, her words coming out quicker every passing second. "I'm sure they are very nice people when they are not hunting mages and making people tranquil. Not that that is a bad thing, some would say it is…"

Keran raised his hand stopping her before her words ran together and she found herself speaking gibberish.

"I'm well aware of how some people view the order, Mistress Merrill," he said, "Macha has more than enlightened me on what people say."

He shook his head.

"I only wanted to help," he said morosely.

Hawke gave him a sympathetic smile.

"If Aveline were here, she would likely point out that not all Templars are ruthless fanatics."

Keran winced.

"Is that how you see me?"

"Of course not," she said, "You have been nothing but a gentleman since we pulled you out of the Sanctuary."

He shuddered.

Hawke cursed under her breath.

"Sorry," she said, "I did not mean…"

"It is okay," he said, "I'm…I'm dealing with it. I'm still having nightmares, but…"

Fenris frowned.

"They have no hold over you, unless you let them."

Keran nodded slightly, accepting his advice.

Again Moira's hand almost touched his.

"Though you might want to downplay the whole dragon fighting thing, I don't want Mach to start thinking I'm trying to get us all killed."

Keran laughed lightly.

"She would be angrier at me than you. My sister would be happier if I found work in some trade, but I…I think that would be a waste. I'm a good soldier that is all I ever wanted to be."

"She is bound to hear about the bone pit," Varric said, "Tell you what chantry boy, I'll start spinning some grandiose story, and you can tell your sister that all you had to deal with was an infestation of…hm…I don't know…unusually large salamanders."

Merrill elven ears twitched.

"Salamanders breathe fire too? I did not know that?"

Varric rolled his eyes.

"Daisy," he sighed.

"What?" she said.

IOI

" _The bone pit was a major coup for Hawke," Varric informed Cassandra, "The deep roads expedition helped, but the money she and Hubert took out of that mine really made House Amell's name mean something again."_

 _Cassandra gave him a stern look._

 _Varric paused._

" _What?"_

 _The Seeker sighed._

" _I find it hard to believe that anyone associated with the Templar order would so willingly follow an apostate and her companions."_

 _The dwarf shrugged._

" _Keran had his reasons. He only joined the order because he wanted to do something good with his life. He was devoted to serving the ideals on which the chantry was founded."_

 _Cassandra snorted at that._

 _Varric frowned._

" _Believe what you want, Seeker, but Chantry boy was good for Hawke, he was a shoulder that she could lean on, and a strong sword and shield that she could stand behind, especially after Aveline's duties as Guard Captain took up more and more of her time."_

" _Yet he did nothing to convince Hawke of dangers taking root in her own party, he said nothing about…"_

 _The dwarf stopped her right there._

" _It is easy to look back and see what we should have done. Had the champion known what was going on right under her nose she might have put a stop to it."_

 _The Seeker gave him an arched look._

" _Might?"_

 _Varric shrugged._

" _Love of friends and family have blinded the greatest of us Seeker."_

 _The woman sighed, but seemed to accept his explanation._

" _Did the Shore girl realize Hawke was at that point?" she asked._

" _Probably," he said, "Marissa is a smart girl. My contacts found out later that she was spending more and more of her time in the Hightown inn. She had caught the eye of some visiting knight from Ferelden."_

 _Varric leaned forward._

" _I'm sure you can guess who it is I'm referring to."_

 _The Seeker crossed her arms._

" _And so the champion continued to raise coin for this expedition of yours?"_

" _Yeah," he replied, "By this point Bartrand was getting impatient, and he certainly did not like the idea I had taken on a partner, fortunately for us, Hawke had already paid him half of what we needed to get the expedition of the ground."_

 _He sighed at the memory._

" _Of course, I still did not like the idea of moving whatever we found through the guild, with all the fees they would tack on, I feared that we would not see half of what we pulled out of the deeps, and we were the ones taking all the risks."_

" _I take it that you found an answer to that problem?"_

 _Varric grinned._

" _Actually, I didn't need to; Hawke's mother beat me to the punch."_

 _Cassandra gave him a curious look._

" _What do you mean?"_

" _It turns out that House Amell had not completely burned all its bridges, Leandra's return had brought one back into working order."_

 _He laughed at the memory._

" _Lucky us."_


	29. The Elf and the Noble

**Chapter 29: The Elf and the Noble**

"I truly appreciate you coming up with me today, Sweetheart."

"It is nothing Mother," Hawke said dismissively with a wave of her hand.

The older woman smiled.

"I just wanted to you to know that I appreciate this dear. I know how busy you are."

Moira smiled meekly. It had taken a long time, but it seemed that her relationship with her mother was finally on the mend. Carver's ghost no longer stood between them, now that they were here, now that they had a cause worth fighting for.

It was just what the two of them had needed to heal.

The two women finished climbing the marble steps out of Lowtown, finally leaving the smoke, soot, and dirt behind them, before them stood Hightown, in all its infernal glory.

Moira shook her head, she still did not like this place, but seeing her mother's eyes light up, seeing her remember even for the briefest of moments what she had once had in this place…

…seeing her face…that…that reaction made it all worth it.

For her mother, Moira would tolerate this place.

It was a rare thing that Leandra Hawke wished to make her way up to Hightown. Whether it was the memories of her childhood here, or simply not wishing to let those who had once known her see her reduced to living in Gamlen's hovel, Moira could not say.

The young mage frowned.

Mother had nothing to be ashamed about she thought. It is not her fault that Gamlen squandered their fortune and lost the estate. If Gamlen had simply obeyed the terms of their grandfather's will they all would have been far better off.

Leandra Hawke had always been a smart money manager. Who knows, they might have returned here long before the Blight, maybe father would have gotten the healing he needed to survive, maybe Carver would have been a true knight by now.

Stop it, her conscience chided, the past cannot be undone, focus instead on the future.

She could at least make a good future for her family.

The two made their way through the market place, Leandra pausing occasionally to peruse the merchants' wares. Normally, the merchants up here would be stand offish if they recognized that their would-be customer was from Lowtown, but as soon as they saw Moira, they kept their comments to themselves.

Her reputation was starting to precede her, which was not necessarily a bad thing. Some recognized her from her dealings with Athenril; few Hightown merchants had no dealings with her old boss. Others had come to know her from her dealings with Hubert, the Orlesian had wasted little time in spreading the news that she was his new partner, it not only helped him gather new Fereldan workers for the mines, but also made it seem that he was in league with someone who was both powerful and dangerous.

Moira chuckled at that.

She was many things, but powerful and dangerous, she did not think so, still there was no harm in letting that rumor spread.

Anything that kept them safe was useful, and a dangerous reputation did not hurt.

Leandra stopped at one of the silk dealers, the man smiled at Moira as her mother perused his wares. The two had done a little business on the side recently; the man had gotten a belt for her, a belt with runes to help enhance her magical abilities. Because of possible Templar involvement they had kept the deal secret, and Moira paying double, with the promise of future business was more than enough to keep matters quiet.

"What do you think of this dear," Leandra said holding up a piece of cloth, "Do you think that Bethany would like a dress made out of this?"

Moira forced a smile.

"It is her color," she commented.

Leandra nodded, as she put the silk down, they would need to come back and get the silk later, it was not wise to carry a lot of coin through Lowtown, not without some protection, protection that any of Hawke's allies would happily provide.

Bethany's birthday was coming up, and their mother wanted to do something nice.

"It is a shame that Bethany could not join us, but it is good that your sister has found something to occupy her time," Leandra added, "She seems very happy since she started volunteering at the clinic."

Moira said nothing, though she did manage a nod for mother's benefit.

It was good that Bethany was finally getting out more, that she had something to occupy her thoughts besides how many Templars were patrolling Lowtown at any given time. Anders'presence in their lives had done much to distract her from her fears.

Moira frowned.

She just wished that was the only thing he was doing.

She did not like the idea of Bethany spending so much time with Anders, what the two of them might be doing when they were out of her sight. From what she had seen and heard while travelling with Anders it was clear he was no gentleman when it came to the ladies.

He was far more…experienced than Bethany, and that worried the elder Hawke.

She did not want her little sister's heart leading her into trouble, and make no mistake…

Anders was definitely trouble.

He was a good ally sure, but the more time she spent around him the less and less she liked his views on the place of mages in the world. Yesterday she had found a small pamphlet stuffed in Bethany's pack. It had fallen out when she had bumped it on accident. Moira had not been snooping per se, but that did not mean she was above looking at the paper now that it was out in the open.

The title was simply: The Manifesto, it was a series of arguments written down in Anders' tell-tale scrawl. Most of it was simple ranting against the Templars; that was not what bothered her.

What bothered her was that Bethany had circled several passages. Her little sister had put stars and the occasional heart among their ally's venomous statements. Moira was no friend to the Templars, but that did not mean that she wanted to provoke them either.

Hawke shook her head as she returned the paper to its place in Bethany's pack, hoping against hope that her little sister did not realize that it had been moved. She had no desire to fight with Bethany over this. Moira respected Anders strength and his skill, but that did not mean she agreed with his choices. Taking the spirit of justice into himself had been a foolish move.

She wished that Bethany could understand that, that she would stop making doe-eyes at the former warden and realize that everything he said was not holy writ.

There was a time that Bethany would have listened to her, but ever since she had first set eyes on Anders heard about what he had done to help Justice; she only heard what she wanted to hear from her elder sister.

Hawke sighed.

It was extremely frustrating.

She did not want to alienate Bethany, but at the same time she wanted her to wake up.

 _Maybe you're reading too much into this_ , her conscience chided, _Maybe your just being an overprotective big sister._

She frowned slightly.

Was she being over protective? Probably. It wasn't like Anders was asking Bethany to assassinate Templars for him, she was working down in his clinic, helping mend broken bones and prepare healing salves.

Who knew, maybe Bethany's presence would be just what Anders needed to find his way back to the light, to put Justice to sleep and allow Anders to focus on more worthwhile pursuits, pursuits that did not include vengeance.

It was possible, she supposed.

She could hope.

Leandra paused at yet another vendor. Hawke leaned against her staff and watched over the crowd, few people gave them a second glance; her armored jacket was enough to discourage any gawkers.

A movement by a sword vendor caught her eye, she glanced up noting a hooded figure, an armored hand reached out, inspecting a dagger.

An arm marked with lyrium.

Moira's eyes narrowed.

Damn it, Fenris, she thought.

Did he have to follow her wherever she went?

The elf seemed to be determined to protect all of Kirkwall from her magic. She had done nothing to harm a single innocent since they had met, but that did not mean that he relaxed his vigilance.

Hawke sighed with frustration.

She had had enough.

"Fenris!" she called out.

The elf paused and turned, he let his hood fall away.

Their eyes locked.

She gestured for him to approach.

The Tevinter elf did not hesitate. He marched right up to her.

"What are you doing here," she hissed.

His elven ears twitched.

"Shopping," he said dryly.

She glared at him.

 _Yeah right_. She thought.

She was about to give him a piece of her mind when her mother turned, noticing him.

"Hello again Master elf," she said warmly.

Fenris lowered his head slightly.

"Lady Hawke," he growled.

"Out enjoying the day as well, I see." Hawke's mother said.

"Yes," Fenris replied glancing up at her daughter.

"There is much to see in Kirkwall."

Moira's eyes narrowed.

She did not want to do this in front of her mother. Fenris' constant skulking around her had ceased to be amusing.

She needed to tell him what was what. She was not his damn master. She did not use blood magic or enslave people. All she wanted was to get her family out of Gamlen's hovel once and for all.

There were rules, limits, and lines that she would not cross. He did not have to follow her around like some bird of ill-omen waiting for her to turn evil.

That was not going to happen.

She…

"LEANDRA AMELL!"

The voice that called out was loud and booming. Half the shoppers around them paused and looked up.

Moira and Fenris, suddenly faced with something beyond their argument turned, as did Hawke's mother.

The elder woman tilted her head.

The man who had called out to her stood in the center of the square flanked by four bodyguards, not that he likely needed them Moira thought.

The nobleman was huge; he stood about a head and a half taller than her, with a chest that was just as wide. He was broad shouldered with very muscular arms. Green eyes stared out from under heavy bushy blonde eyebrows; his beard and hair, also blonde were streaked with gray.

The only weakness that Moira could see was softness around the man's middle, it was clear that he did not miss many meals, but given his size, she still would not have chosen to tangle with him. The man had the look of a fighter about him, and though it was clear that he was past his prime, she did not doubt that the man might give as good as he got.

He was flanked by two children, teenagers really, maybe thirteen or fourteen. The boy, though young, already had the same broadness that the older man had, the girl next to him was slender, with large catlike green eyes, that seemed to be evaluating all around them.

Twins perhaps, Moira thought, they looked close to the same age.

Both Moira and Fenris tensed, if this man was some enemy of House Amell, if he had been looking to settle some old grudge at Leandra Hawke's expense, he would find that a very big mistake.

Moira glanced at her mother, she expected her to be cringing perhaps moving behind her daughter and Fenris, Leandra Hawke did not do that.

She stood straight and proud, in that moment the noble woman she had been shone through, despite the state of her clothing.

She held the massive noble's gaze.

"Hello, Pieter." she said with a polite nod of her head.

"It has been a long time."

The large man snorted and began to walk toward them.

Moira and Fenris tensed, as did the noble's guards.

"Let me handle this dear," Leandra said over her shoulder.

""I'm in no danger you bloody idiots," the large man said to his guards, "Stand down."

They did, but still kept an eye on the mage and the elf.

Leandra walked up to the larger man, unafraid, and unbowed.

The two sized each other up.

"I heard you were back," the noble said gruffly, "I had to see for myself."

"And now you have," Leandra said primly, "here I am."

"So you are," the noble snorted.

He looked Leandra up and down.

"You've gone gray," he said dryly.

"Indeed," Hawke's mother replied, "And you have gotten fat."

The noble gave her and arched look.

Moira tensed again, a spell ready on her lips of the noble took offense.

 _What are you doing mother?_ She thought.

 _What in Andraste's name are you_ _ **doing?**_

Leandra Hawke remained unworried, she gestured at the noble's large waistline.

He looked down up at Leandra and back again.

The man managed to hold his stern look for about two seconds more, and then he smiled.

Leandra smiled, laughter emerged from her throat.

The noble boomed a loud haughty laugh.

He scooped Leandra up into his arms and spun her around.

"LEEEEEEA!" he growled happily.

"Pieter put me down," Hawke's mother laughed.

"Put me down this instant."

Moira blinked still not understanding what was going on.

The large man sat her mother down and kissed her forehead.

"It is good to see you again, Lea," he said beaming, "It has been far too long."

"Indeed it has," Leandra said smiling happily, "I'm glad to see that you are well."

"Well enough Lea," he said with a wide smile, "Well enough."

"Mother?" Hawke asked, Fenris remaining at her side just in case.

"What is going on?"

Leandra Hawke grinned.

"Come here dear," she said, "I want to introduce you to an old friend."

Hawke approached, the man gave her a respectful nod.

He glanced over at Mother.

"Your first born Lea?" he asked.

"Indeed," Mother said, "Pieter, may I introduce my daughter, Moira."

"Your Lordship,' Moira said performing a reasonable curtsey.

The noble gave her a respectful nod.

"Moira," Leandra said proudly, "Allow me to introduce you to an old friend of mine. This is Bann Pieter Trevelyan of House Trevelyan of Ostwick."

"It is a pleasure to meet you, lass," The Bann said bowing slightly.

He grinned at her.

"You're as pretty as your mother; that is for sure."

Moira blushed slightly.

"Thank you, Your lordship," she said.

"Pieter," Leandra said giving a glare with no heat.

The noble chuckled.

"Just being honest, Lea," he said.

Leandra Hawke chuckled.

"And when were you ever honest?" she inquired.

He gave her an arched look.

"You got me there," he admitted.

"You got me there."

IOI

" _That was how Hawke first met Bann Trevelyan, and began her first dealings with the Trevelyan family," Varric told Cassandra."_

 _The Seeker looked skeptical._

" _I find it odd that a pious man like Pieter Trevelyan would willingly deal with an apostate," she said._

 _Again Varric sighed._

" _He wasn't dealing with an apostate," the dwarf reminded her, "He was dealing with Leandra Amell's daughter."_

 _Varric leaned back._

" _To the Bann that was all that mattered."_

 _Cassandra snorted but did not comment further._

 _Nobles could be insular; they associated with their friends without the single thought of consequences._

 _Even had there been consequences the Bann likely would have accepted them._

 _His old friend Lea was back, that was what mattered to the Bann._

 _That was all that mattered._


	30. The Bann

**Chapter 30: The Bann**

They would dine with him today. The Bann would accept no refusal.

The Trevelyan entourage made its way down the streets of Hightown. Moira and Fenris followed behind the Bann and Hawke's Mother. For Moira, who preferred a little bit more anonymity, this was not the most comfortable of situations.

She did not like people staring at her, and being in the company of a Bann of Ostwick would no doubt attract more than a few prying eyes.

This was certainly not how she saw her day going, she was still going to have speak with Keran when they were done, the former Templar had managed to get a line on a certain lyrium smuggler in Lowtown, a smuggler that likely serviced the needs of Samson, the Templar that had likely aided Arianni's son Feynriel in escaping the city.

Keran did not need lyrium himself, he had not yet taken his final vows, and therefore had yet to receive his first draft of lyrium, sparing him from the affects the substance had on the bodies and minds of those taking it.

She was grateful for that; it was one less worry they had to think about when dealing with a former Templar. The Knight-Commander, or anyone else for that matter, would never be able to hold a draught of lyrium over Keran's head to force compliance, not that the young man had given her any reason to doubt him. Keran had been more than eager to please since they had met him, more than eager.

All Hawke had to do was ask, and the boy jumped to see her wishes done. She knew the rest of her flock had her back, but even Bethany was not so…eager to comply.

She had mentioned that to Aveline, the guard captain believed that Hawke had nothing to worry about.

"He is a soldier Hawke. They are used to obeying orders."

Isabela had…another take on the whole thing.

"I think that boy is hoping to get into your small clothes Hawke."

Moira had almost choked after hearing the pirate's comment.

"Can't really blame him," she had continued, "You pulled him out of the void, held him in your arms and brought him back to the light."

The pirate chuckled.

"Of course, that might all be some scam to get you into the sack, still…look at the boy.

Isabela grinned lecherously.

"Why not?"

Hawke did not respond to that.

It was preposterous, it truly was.

She had spent her life evading Templars; the chance that she might feel even a flicker of attraction for one was…it was…

She shivered.

She found herself thinking back to when they had found him in the Sanctuary, lost holding onto to her for dear life. He had been so frightened, so fragile…

Then…he had looked into her eyes.

" _Beautiful,"_ that was his first real word to her.

" _Beautiful."_

She remembered how warm he had been, how his strong arms had gripped her so tightly, yet his touch had been so gentle, it had…it had been like the caress of a gentle breeze. She had looked into those bright blue eyes and…

She shuddered, her whole body warming at the memory.

No, she thought pushing those memories back, those feelings back.

They were foolish, foolish and inappropriate.

Keran was a means to an end, nothing more.

He was nothing more.

She glanced at her mother's friend, the Bann.

Her brow furrowed in thought.

Perhaps there was a way to turn this little meeting to their advantage…

…perhaps.

IOI

They went up to one of the finest eating establishments in Hightown. The man at the door bowed deeply, recognizing Bann Trevelyan, then he noticed the two Hawke women, he regarded both Moira and her mother curiously, the look wasn't one of distaste, but it was close... It was enough to make anyone self-conscious. The two Hawke women with their Lowtown clothes clearly did not belong in such an establishment.

Bann Pieter, recognizing what was going on, glared at the man and asked to be seated, his guests, the Hawkes, would be joining him, unless the man wished that he take his patronage elsewhere.

The workers in the establish moved quickly after that, not wishing to insult the visiting noble, the noble who likely had more than his share of friends here in the city of chains, friends that could make life difficult for them if they did not give the Bann what he wanted.

Moira tried not to feel like a total outsider as they were ushered inside. Mother seemed more at home in the place, but her daughter, who had grown up just getting by on a farm, was not used to such…opulence. Still she chose to say nothing. Bann Pieter was the first noble to take notice of mother and not turn away, and besides…

She smiled to herself.

It would be nice to dine on something that was not Lowtown fare, if the Bann wished to feed them, who was she to refuse?

Part of her wished that Bethany was here; Bethany could behave more like a noble than her awkward older sister. The younger Hawke sister had always seemed so poised, so elegant.

Bethany not only came from noble stock, she looked and moved like a noble, at least, that is how her elder sister saw her.

She would have fit better than Moira ever would in such a place.

Fenris took his place beside the rest of the bodyguards, of the three of them, only the elf seemed comfortable with all this. Moira realized that for the elf, this was likely quite familiar, he had no doubt stood beside his former master while he had dined with allies or potential partners.

Hawke envied that sense of comfort. She feared that even if the deep roads expedition panned out, that she would never be comfortable moving through noble circles.

As for Mother, it seemed as if a weight had been lifted off of her, being around her old friend again made her seem…more relax? She spoke of old times with Pieter Trevelyan; she even smiled as he told her this story or that.

Mother's opinion of the man was clear, but Hawke was still not sure.

On the surface Bann Trevelyan was like any other noble in this town. The man was a bit of a blustering blowhard, using his wealth and his family name to hammer the city into what he thought was its proper place. She had known her share of such people while working for Athenril, and had learned to be leery of them when it came to trust. Still, the Bann had been nothing but the perfect gentleman around her mother. He spoke to her with both respect and affection.

The Bann's treatment of her mother bought him much more respect than the rest of the nobles in this town.

He treated her like the noble she was, and what she would be again when they had the estate back.

All Moira had to do now was deliver with the expedition.

Of the two children that had accompanied the Bann only the boy stayed to join them, the girl had received whispered orders from the noble and hurried off on some errand. The servers brought them drinks while the Bann and his party settled in for polite conversation.

When the food came Hawke had to keep her eyes from widening, there so was much of it, and it smelled…Maker save her, it smelled so good.

It was all she could do to keep from shoveling food into her mouth, to remember the lessons her mother had drilled into her long ago.

Hawke looked down at the place setting in front of her, grateful that her mother had taught her noble etiquette as a girl. She knew how to handle a fork and knife, even could recognize what was used for which course. Back in Lothering they had never had much use for such fluff, but Leandra Hawke had insisted.

The Hawke matriarch had always hoped that the day would come that her children would need such instruction, that they would return to her home and take their rightful place. It seemed that today, she had been proven right.

Moira was determined not to embarrass her.

The large noble looked upon Leandra Hawke with great affection, Moira could not help but wonder what had passed between them all those years ago, she had never remembered hearing mother mention him, of course why would she.

She had left that life behind, why dwell on what she had given up, and if Bann Pieter had been a former suitor of hers…

Moira froze.

She tried not to think about that, mother would always be with Father in her mind, she could not imagine any other scenario.

It was enough to make her lose her appetite.

"It is so very good to see you again Pieter," Leandra said smiling warmly.

The noble snorted.

"No one is glad to see me anymore Lea," he said dismissively, "Whenever I leave Ostwick these days, it is to put some partner of mine in his place."

The large man frowned.

"When you have wealth, everyone wants to be your friend; they just don't want you asking when they are going to be paying you back."

Leandra laughed lightly at his words.

"I don't remember you being so cynical."

"Cynicism comes with age," he sighed, "But occasionally the people I pay to be my eyes and ears do give me good news."

The man smiled again.

"Finding out that you were back is definitely good news."

Leandra blushed slightly.

"I'm surprised you found out. It is not like we've been making waves on the Kirkwall social scene."

"People **have** noticed you, they might not admit it, but they have" he said, "Though I probably would not have found out that you were back if you had not been writing to the Viscount, trying to get an audience with him."

The Bann snorted like an irritated bull.

"Marlowe Dumar," he said shaking his head, "How that one has managed to hold onto power for so long, I'll never know."

Moira almost came to the Viscount's defense; she had met him after all, and his son.

From what she had seen, the Viscount was doing his best with what he had available to him.

Again the Bann addressed her mother.

"You should have come to Ostwick when you fled the Blight," he said, "House Trevelyan would have sheltered you. Maker knows you could never count on your brother."

Leandra frowned.

"Please do not speak badly of Gamlen, Pieter. He tried to hold House Amell together."

"Tried and failed," the Bann said shaking his head again, "Had you been Lady Amell, your house would have been able to rebuild, I'm sure of it."

Leandra blushed again.

"I made my choice Pieter, and I'm not ashamed of it."

"Nor should you be," the man said, "It took a lot of guts to strike out on your own, be with the one you loved. Maker knows I never had that strength as a boy."

Leandra gave him a sly smile.

"I remember a young boy that was quite strong, who competed at the Grand Tourney at what…fifteen?"

"Thirteen," he corrected her, "Sure I was physically strong, but I never had the strength to step outside the role my father had prepared for me."

The older man pursed his lips.

"Caused quite the scandal back then. The Delauncets were beside themselves."

Leandra chuckled.

"Pieter was fostered with the Delauncet family, dear," Mother explained to her daughter.

"That is how we met."

"You were too good for Guillaume. Even that painted bastard knew that."

Bann Trevelyan smiled again.

"You know, you would have been better off marrying me."

Moira paused; her wine almost to her lips, a cold streak ran down her spine.

Mother did not seem effected.

Leandra laughed lightly.

"You never asked me," she reminded him, "And besides your father would never have allowed it."

Bann Trevelyan snorted.

"True," he said shaking his head, "Too much magic in the Amell bloodline that is what everyone said back then. Tatiana of Markham was a much more stable match, a safer one."

The Bann chuckled morosely.

"And in one of the Maker's greatest ironies, she gave me a son, a firstborn boy that was going to be the future of our family and what happens…"

The Bann snorted.

"He ends up in the Circle, so much for keeping magic out of our bloodline, eh?"

Moira glanced at the younger boy, the Bann's son no doubt.

He looked into his food and said nothing.

Likely he had heard this rant before.

The Bann, perhaps realizing what he had said turned to his son.

He placed a large hand on the boy's.

"You will be great as well Stefan," he said, "Never doubt that. Your brother may have been first, but it is you that the Maker chose to be my heir."

The boy nodded but did not look up.

"Yes, father," he murmured.

The Bann did his best to hide his frown, realizing that he might have just alienated his heir.

Moira set nothing.

If the Bann had sent his eldest golden boy to the circle…?

She could only imagine what he would do to her if she was discovered.

Leandra, perhaps aware of her daughter's nervousness when talk turned to the Circle of Magi, or perhaps to save young Stefan, changed the subject.

"Is coming to see me the only reason you chose to come to Kirkwall today, Pieter?"

"It would have been better if it was," the noble replied, "No, I had hoped to meet with you, but I also had to see one of my clients, the bloody idiot assured me he had a line on Qunari goods."

Leandra's eyes widened slightly.

"What in Andraste's name would people want Qunari goods for?"

The Bann smiled.

"People may fear the Qunari, but that has only added to their mystique. Their foodstuffs, furniture, metal working, there is a demand for such things. These are the kind of things that you can't get outside of the Qunari controlled territory, and therefore valuable to the bored and the jaded, as conversation pieces if little else."

The Bann snorted.

"With so many Qunari in this city, my contact hoped to make a deal with them. We know that the Qunari don't sell weapons, but we had hoped that they would be interested in exporting some of their goods, putting us in contact with those willing to expand their own market."

Moira, though she did not know why, suddenly found her voice.

"The Qunari here are soldiers," she said, "I don't think they have any interest in trade."

The fact that she had spoken so openly about the Qunari surprised the Bann.

"You've had dealings with them?"

Moira, suddenly aware that she had the full attention of the table swallowed hard.

Me and my big mouth, she thought.

She expected the Bann to demand an answer; he did not seem like the asking type.

Once again, he surprised.

"Speak plainly girl," he said in a soothing voice, "We all have to make coin, no judgment here."

Leandra put her hand over her daughters.

"You can trust Pieter dearest," she said.

"He is one of my oldest and dearest friends."

Moira sighed and took a deep breath.

Her dealings with the Qunari had not been entirely successful, but she had learned a few things about them.

She was willing to share that knowledge, provided there was no judgement.

She hoped that the Bann would understand.

She had been just trying to get by.

She told the Bann about her dealings with Javaris and the Qunari. She downplayed the danger of fighting the Tal Vashoth, for Mother's sake, but other than that, she left nothing out.

The Bann respected what she had done, he asked few questions, and when he did they were mostly directed about the Arishok, what she had observed. When she had finished, the Bann nodded, a look of respect in his eyes.

"Well you got away unharmed and unconverted," he said, "in dealing with the ox-men, most would call that a win."

"It was necessary," she added, "We need coin to fund our expedition."

"So you say," Trevelyan said thoughtfully, "Dwarven artifacts you say, pre-blight?"

"Perhaps," she added, "According to my sources, the thaig was lost long ago, perhaps even before the darkspawn."

Again Bann Pieter nodded; Moira could almost hear the wheels turning in the noble's head.

"Deep roads are dangerous girl; even the wardens go in force."

"Most of the darkspawn are still down in Ferelden," she said, "We've been hearing that from plenty of refugees that have turned up in the last few months."

"Maybe," the Bann said idly stroking his chin, "How are you planning on moving what you take out of that place, do you have any sellers lined up?"

Moira tried not to smile. She had not thought of it before now, but they did need someone to help sell whatever trinkets they took out of that thaig.

Bann Trevelyan might just be perfect.

"We have some sellers from the dwarven merchant's guild," she lied, "They promised that they can get us a fair price."

The Bann growled like an angry bear.

"The dwarven merchant's guild," he said shaking his head, "Piss on that! Those little bastards will rob you blind! You will be lucky to break even with all the cuts they will be taking for themselves."

The Bann leaned forward.

"I have contacts girls," he said, "People that would be interested in buying pre-blight dwarven items. Cause your Lea's I'll help you move them, for a modest finder's fee of course."

Leandra gave him an arched look.

"Pieter," she said cautioned.

He gave her a roguish smile.

"Contrary to popular belief, I do play nice every now and again, and if I can help get you and this girl out of Gamlen's place, why not?"

He poured both himself and Moira a glass of wine, to show her how serious he was, the Bann was not a drinker, both according to mother and his own admission.

The fact that he was willing to do so spoke of how serious he was about this.

"To the future of House Amell," he said raising his glass, "and to getting your asses out of Lowtown and back up here where you belong."

Moira smiled.

The man was still a noble blowhard, but he was clearly interested in being their noble windbag.

She brought up her own glass and toasted the Bann.

"To House Amell," she said.

"And to future profits for us both," he added.

Moira's smile widened.

 **To profits!**


	31. Ex-Templars

**Chapter 31: Ex-Templars**

" _I'm not sure exactly what the final deal was between Hawke and Bann Trevelyan, but what I can tell you is that it finally got things moving again."_

 _Varric smirked as he remembered those days. He had honestly hoped that they wouldn't have to use the merchant's guild to move the treasure that they were likely going to find. The Bann was not wrong when talking about the fees and bribes that the guild masters would have demanded,_

 _Whatever the Bann's motivations, his partnership with Hawke freed their little group up to find the remaining coin they needed to finally set out for the deep roads._

" _You mentioned earlier about the hunt for an apostate boy" Cassandra reminded him, "an elf blooded human."_

" _Feynriel," Varric nodded, "Yeah, we were still looking for him. We knew from speaking with his father that the boy had been sent to a former Templar named Samson. The man was said to have aided runaways in the past, provided they had coin to help the man feed his lyrium addiction."_

 _Cassandra shook her head._

" _It is hard to believe that a Templar, any Templar would fall that far, that they would abandon their oaths so blithely."_

 _Varric gave her a knowing look._

" _You should not be surprised by anything Seeker. After all, you and your order are supposed to police the Templars, is that not true? Can you honestly tell me that you have not seen just how far a Templar can fall?"_

 _The Seeker did not respond to his question, her eyes narrowed, but whether it was because she was angry at his comment or that he had scored a hit, not even the dwarf could say._

 _He simply smiled and continued on with his tale._

" _Samson was not an easy man to contact; he stayed hidden during the day, and only stuck his head out if there was some profit in it. Fortunately, we had gained an ally who could move in the same circles as Samson without drawing far too much attention."_

 _The Templar recruit," Cassandra murmured, "The boy Keran?"_

" _Yeah," Varric said with a nod, "He might have been a charity case for Hawke, but he was our charity case. He had not been out of the Templars a week when he started to be approached by people with access to lyrium. They knew how hard it was for a Templar outside the order, and thought to make a little coin off our newest friend."_

 _Cassandra snorted with disgust._

" _Parasites," she growled._

" _Can't blame someone for trying to make a little coin," the dwarf shrugged, "In Keran's case however, they were wasting their time. The boy had not started taking lyrium yet. He had never gotten a chance to sample the dust, so he had no craving for it. Of course, he was not above hitting them up for answers, especially when it came to one of their customers."_

" _You used Keran to get to the lyrium smugglers, who in turn led you to this Samson?"_

 _Again Varric nodded._

" _Did the boy have any problem aiding you?" the Seeker asked, "He must have felt some qualms about aiding apostates?"_

 _Varric chuckled._

" _If he had any qualms about helping Hawke he did not show it. In fact he bribed the lyrium smugglers for the information we needed out of his own pocket. The Champion offered to repay him for it, but he refused."_

 _The dwarf smirked._

" _Hawke told me later that she did not understand that? She figured that Charity still felt that he owed us for saving him from the blood mages."_

 _Cassandra gave him an arched look._

" _You disagree?"_

 _Varric shrugged._

" _Charity was most definitely grateful for what Hawke had done for him, but that was not the reason he stuck around."_

 _The dwarf shook his head._

" _She never realized the effect she had on people."_

 _Something in his voice made Cassandra pause. She could not tell what it was…regret, a sense of longing…_

 _Varric coughed, realizing that he had perhaps said too much._

 _He pushed on before the Seeker could call him on it._

" _One night, shortly after Hawke's meeting with Bann Trevelyan Keran came dashing into_ the Hanged Man.

" _He had located Samson, the man was there now. We gathered as many of our allies as we could and made our way to meet with him."_

" _And he told you where to find the boy Feynriel?"_

 _Varric sighed._

" _Not exactly."_

IOI

"Anders."

There was a clear threat in Moira's voice. The former warden was glaring at Samson, not that she blamed him.

She could sense magic radiating off her ally, it felt like it did in the chantry, right before Justice came out and slaughtered the Templars who had used Karl Thekla to try to get to Anders.

Once again Bethany came to the rescue, whispering soothing words into Anders ear, her hand resting gently on his forearm.

The magic receded, leaving Anders glaring at Samson.

"You are _**disgusting**_ ," he snarled.

Samson gave him an unabashed smile.

Magic flashed in Anders' eyes, but he did not rise to the bait.

Samson chuckled.

It was all Moira could do to keep from punching him.

The red eyed wreck of a former Templar had just admitted that he had turned Feynriel and another mage, a girl, over to a ship captain, a man who had a habit of selling magelings to the highest bidder. It was a despicable move, a criminal one.

Moira took a deep breath and silently counted to ten.

It would not do to kill the man, or to let Justice come out and rip him apart. Right now he was our only link to finding Feynriel, hopefully alive and unharmed.

She probably shouldn't have brought Anders along on this one, but he had been at the Hanged Man, and she had hoped that seeing his fellow mages might make things easier when they finally did catch up with the boy. Bethany, Keran, Fenris, and Varric had also accompanied them. When they had first left, she had feared that she was bringing too much firepower, that they might spook Samson into running. Now she was grateful for their presence.

This was no longer just a mission to find the boy; it was likely a rescue mission. If the sea captain that had Feynriel decided to put up a fight…

They would need allies.

"Is it possible the boy is still in the city?" Moira asked.

"My associate's ship is still docked," Samson slurred, "If he had already off loaded his cargo, he would have left."

The man shook his head.

"Probably trying to push up the price with whoever he is dealing with, he never did know when to take the money. If you hurry you might be able to get him back before he is sold to the Templars, or worse."

Varric gave him an arched look.

"No loyalty to your friend?" he asked.

"He is not a friend," Samson explained, "Just someone who is willing to get involved in this crazy business."

The man's eyes fell on Keran on the Templar shield that he carried.

"You know what I'm talking about, don't you lad?"

He smiled sheepishly.

"We got to do what we got to do to get by."

Keran's eyes narrowed.

"I still have my honor," he said with a glare, "Can you say the same?"

Samson laughed.

"Honor?" he cackled, "That is a good one, lad, real good one."

Samson supplied Moira with the address of the warehouse, the ship captain used.

She took it and gave him a few silvers, enough for a hit of lyrium from the local smugglers.

The man rushed off to buy what he needed.

Moira shook her head.

Growing up, she had always thought herself a criminal; by choosing to live out of the circle she was breaking the Maker's law. That by resisting the Templars she was doing something wrong, and that the Templars, those paragons of honor and faith, were always in the right, that she was simply too much of a coward to accept it.

Kirkwall had done much to kill those preconceptions.

Templars were not the champions of justice that they liked everyone to think they were. Anders would have applauded her reaching that realization, but she had seen too much blood magic here in Kirkwall to think that the mages were all doe-eyed victims.

There was no black and white in the city of chains, only shades of gray.

She just hoped that she was doing what she could to stay on the right of all this madness.

Keran approached her, he looked troubled.

She gave him a wan smile.

"Don't let him get to you," she advised, "Just because he gave up on his honor does not mean that it does not have value."

Keran nodded grimly, but did not try to smile, ever so slightly.

"Thank you, Milady," he murmured.

She blushed slightly under his kind words.

Anders cleared his throat loudly, getting everyone's attention.

"We still have to save Feynriel," he reminded them.

"The longer we wait…"

Hawke shook her head.

Anders was right.

There would be time for self-examination later.

For now, they had work to do.

Arianni wanted her son back.

Hawke would do her best to see that that came to pass.

IOI

Varric walked alongside Keran, the young warrior gripped his shield tightly as they made their way down the street.

The dwarf chuckled slightly at his intensity.

"Ease up Charity," the dwarf said, "I'm sure we will find you something to hit soon enough."

Keran shook his head.

"Do you have to call me Charity, master dwarf?' he asked.

Again Varric chuckled.

"If I didn't give you a nickname kid, then I wouldn't concern you worth my time to get to know."

Keran seemed to consider that for a moment, and then he nodded.

"Fair enough," He said.

Anders approached from behind him, the foul expression he had worn since their meeting with Samson remained.

He glared daggers at the young warrior.

"So," the apostate said with no small amount of venom.

"What do you think of your fellow Templars now?"

Keran sighed.

"I'm not a Templar anymore, Serah. I'm simply trying to repay my debt to Lady Hawke."

Anders scoffed at that.

"Templars like to talk about how they are doing the Maker's work; that faith guides them, but they are just interested in power, in control."

The apostate shook his head.

"Take you friend Samson back there; he clearly didn't think anything about handing innocent mages over to the predators in this city. When they are gone, what does he care, he has what he wants, another draft of lyrium. The Templars in the Gallows are not that different. They…"

Keran sighed angrily, he did not turn, but he did tense up.

"I cannot speak for the order, Ser mage," he growled, "I can only speak for myself. I'm here, trying to do the right thing."

Keran's hand tightened around the hilt of his sword.

"If you don't think that I was disgusted by what I saw back there you are gravely mistaken. I would never end up like that, like that…that wreck of a man. He…he…"

Keran found himself stammering not wishing to go on, perhaps fearing that he might say something that he might regret, something that might provoke Anders into doing something.

The boy let out a tired sigh, letting his anger go with it.

"I'm here to help, that should be all that matters."

He hurried on to catch up with Hawke, leaving Varric and Anders behind.

The dwarf frowned at the apostate.

"Ease up their Blondie," he warned, "We're all friends here."

Anders once again glared daggers into Keran's back.

Varric was not sure, but he thought he heard Anders murmur something about never being friends with a Templar.

Bethany once again drew in close to the apostate, whispering o him, trying to calm him down.

Varric frowned slightly.

The dynamic in their little group had changed slightly in recent days. Hawke's flock had always been a refuge for misfits, Fenris, Merrill, Isabela, even himself to a certain degree, none of them really fit anywhere outside their little group.

It was the Hawke sisters that held them together. Moira led them, while Bethany, their heart kept them all centered on working together. Sunshine was the bright spot in their world, they watched over her, and she shone her light down on them, keeping things flowing with her gentleness and optimism.

That light was no longer there.

The change had been subtle, but it was there.

Bethany continued to drift away from the others, as he grew closer to Anders, she seemed more interested in keeping him appeased then helping the others. She rarely talked to anyone but Blondie when they travelled, and rarely wanted to go anywhere without him.

When they saw Templars out in the streets, Bethany did not try to shift to the back of the group like she had before. She often glared at the chantry's soldiers, perhaps not with the hate that Anders had, but definitely more than she had shown before.

It was disconcerting to be sure.

Moira was worried about her sister; she had admitted that to Varric, at first he had dismissed those worries as a big sister's concern.

Now…he was not so sure.

IOI

 _Varric leaned back in his chair._

" _So," he said "We were off to find Feynriel, and I had committed myself to keep a closer eye on Milady Sunshine. Beyond that, it was business as usual."_

 _Cassandra snorted._

" _I'm surprised you simply let Samson go. Were none of you worried that he might try to warn the man you were going after?"_

" _We were on are way to hit the man that very night, we figured that he would not have time to prepare, whatever warning that Samson could send, it would arrive too late."_

 _Varric's expression turned thoughtful._

" _Of course that did not mean that we weren't being watched. Our questions had roused the curiosity of the local lyrium smugglers, maybe they thought Hawke was still working for Athenril, maybe they feared that we were going to try and muscle in on their business…"_

 _The dwarf shrugged._

" _After our little adventure with Feynriel, I learned from one of my contacts that a group of lyrium smugglers had been planning to set a trap for us, a trap that never took shape, their little group ended up getting ambushed, They ended up getting cut down by a warrior wielding a great sword with warden markings._

 _Varric chuckled._

" _Hawke never found out about that. Carver told me that in confidence, and only after about four or five drinks. He had been following us since Marissa Shore had first put him on to us."_

 _The dwarf cackled._

" _Little brother had not abandoned his sisters; he simply wasn't ready to reveal himself._

 _Varric sighed._

" _At least, not yet."_


	32. Freeing Feynriel

**Chapter 32: Freeing Feynriel**

"Are you alright?"

Moira sputtered and coughed and tried to stand up, she tried to free herself of the crates that she had been knocked into. Several of them had broken open spilling a strange scented spice on her clothing.

She coughed again.

It was not a smell she cared for.

Keran stood over her, offering her a hand up which she grateful took, finally rising to her feet she tried to wipe the contents of the crate off, while at the same time visually checking on her fellows, making sure that everyone was okay.

Seeing that everyone was still standing she turned back to cleaning herself off.

"I'm…I'm fine," she snorted, wiping at her eyes, "Maker's breath! What a **stink!"**

Keran smiled slightly.

"I think it is from Antiva," he said brushing her off with the back of his hand; I think they use it to prepare dried meat for sea journeys."

Hawke shuddered.

"Remind me never to take a boat to Antiva," she quipped.

The former Templar chuckled again, that made her smile slightly.

Anders and Bethany stood over the body of had caused this chaos, they had arrived at the warehouse, managed to surprise the ship captain and his crew, they had been in the process of trying to bind a mage girl they had had in their custody.

Their attempt had failed, and in that failure they had caused their own destruction. In her panic, the girl had let a demon in, the creature had possessed her before the captain and his men had had any chance to escape.

The abomination that the girl had become ripped the men apart, and then, lost in its madness and fury, the creature had turned on Hawke and her companions.

"The poor girl," Bethany murmured, she leaned down; touching what was left of the creature's face. Its features barely looked human, much less feminine.

As soon as her fingers touched the body, crumbled into dust and ash, the demon's possession and death had destroyed everything the young mage had been. All that was left was a small locked, the only inscription inside was two words…

From Papa.

Anders looked down on the body with a look of pained grief in his eyes.

"I wonder who she was?" he said, "Maybe there is something here, something that can help us find out."

Moira took his reaction as a good sign. It meant that there was more to Anders then simply vengeance and anger.

Their group searched the warehouse, seeking any clue of who the girl was, and what had happened to the boy Feynriel. Fenris mentioned that it was unlikely that they would be able to help the boy now. If he was not here, he had likely already been sold and was on his way to Tevinter or to the Gallows by now.

Still Moira did not give up hope. She refused to believe that they had arrived too late. They may have been too late to save the girl, but there was still a chance that they could do something for Feynriel.

It took a bit of searching, but eventually they managed to find the captain's log book. Inside was a list of his most recent transactions.

Among them were reference to a man named Danzig in Darktown, that and the delivery of a single…package to him.

Anders, having done so much work in Darktown recognized the man's name, he was said to be a slaver, a Tevinter that most in the undercity had learned to avoid.

Moira' eyes narrowed dangerously.

 _It seemed that they had likely found who had taken possession of Feynriel._

They also found a small chest containing what was likely personal effects of those taken in by the captain and his men, included among these items was a letter, a letter addressed to the Templar Thrask from his daughter Olivia.

Moira shuddered.

It seems that they had found the identity of the dead mage girl.

Keran shook his head.

"Poor Thrask," he said, "I…I didn't even know he had a daughter."

"Probably not something he liked to advertise Charity," Varric said, "I imagine the order wouldn't be too happy to find out that one of their members had an apostate for a daughter."

Moira pursed her lips. She took the letter and put it into her pocket. If she or Bethany had ever disappeared without a trace, Mother would have gone crazy with worry. She would want to know what had happened to her child, even if that knowledge broke her heart.

Hawke had already decided not to let the man suffer, she would take his daughter's letter to him, let him know what had happened.

 _It was the only truly decent thing to do._

"We should contact Aveline," she said, "Make sure that this place stays shut down, just in case the captain had any crew that wasn't here tonight."

Her expression turned lethal.

"This place is shut down, and I intend to keep it that way."

Everyone agreed with her on that point, her vow was not something any of them would try to contest. They looted what coin they could find, and left the rest to Aveline and her guardsman. What happened to the goods stored here would be up to her and the Viscount.

They made their way out of the warehouse, not far down the street was a small sewer grate that opened up in Darktown. Anders said he knew where they could likely find the Slaver Danzig. If he was still in the city, he would likely be there.

"Let us go and say hello," Fenris purred, his markings glowing slightly.

"It has been a while since I gave a slaver a proper hello…"

He smiled coldly.

"And **goodbye** ," he added.

Hawke tried not smile at the elf's remark. Dealing death was not something that anyone should ever come to enjoy, but when it came to slavers...

…she was prepared to make an exception.

IOI

Anders' information turned out to be true.

They came across the slaver and his men exactly where he said they would be. Danzig had set up a cozy little camp for himself, protected by company of mercenaries, likely Tevinter themselves.

Moira glanced around quickly, making sure that the man had no slaves chained up here, and she had no desire to harm anyone but the people who deserved it.

Considering Danzig's reaction to their approach, she would say that the man definitely deserved it.

"Lookee here, boys," the slaver chuckled to his minions, "Volunteers! Clap 'em in irons and we will see what we can get for this lot."

Hawke's eyes narrowed fiercely.

It was not surprising to hear that the man was not above taking random people wandering around Lowtown. After all, who would miss someone who simply vanished down here, too many people vanished every day in the undercity, what was one or five more?

This time the man had bitten off more than he could chew, a point she was about to make very clear to him.

She glanced over at Fenris, and spoke with as much concern as she might use when discussing the weather.

"Make him talk."

The elf grinned.

"I can do that," he said with a hint of a smile on his lips.

He approached Danzig; the slaver was taken aback by the lack of fear from Hawke and her companions.

That concern was proven justified, as Fenris raised a single glowing hand and plunged it into the slaver's chest.

Danzig went down, gasping and in pain.

The elf did not crush the man's heart, not yet.

He still had information that they needed, after that…well…

He was sure that Hawke would permit him to indulge himself, which she did.

Moira felt no shame as she struck down Danzig's men; these men were slavers, parasites preying on the weak and forgotten down here.

 _They deserved whatever they got._

Danzig gave up the name of another slaver, and a location along the wounded coast. It is where he sent all of his merchandise, it was there that the boy would be processed and sent on the next leg of his journey to Tevinter.

She thanked him for his honesty by giving him a quick clean death, which was more than likely what he would have gotten had Fenris or Anders confronted him alone. Once again they looted the bodies of any coin, and made their way back up to the streets of Kirkwall.

The Slaver had not known if Feynriel had been sent out of the Free Marches yet, with luck they would still be in time and intercept the slavers before they sent him off.

Hawke still hope to give Arianni a happy ending to this story.

She was a bit surprised how eager Keran appeared over all this, she had thought that a former Templar might not agree with the sentences they were dishing out, that and the fact that they were not even trying to go through proper channels.

"We are doing good here," he said when she asked him about it; "I joined the order because I wanted to make a difference, serve the people, and protect them from evil. What we are doing may not be official but it is right."

The young man smiled proudly.

"I'm grateful to stand beside you all, and to fight at your side."

Moira did not respond right way, she simply smiled at their new ally.

Despite everything she had seen in the last few years, she found that she welcomed Keran's optimism; it was too easy to turn bitter while wading through the darkness of Kirkwall.

With so much darkness around them, a little light was welcome.

Now they just had to find Feynriel.

Hopefully they were not too late.

IOI

There were no guards outside the slaver's cave, no one to stop them as they made their way inside. Places such as this survived because no one knew about them.

On the inside was another matter. The slavers had the place set up to defend from any attack from the outside, walkways above with no less than five archers at the ready.

As she looked around she spotted only a single prisoner, a boy with slender features and amber colored hair.

She guessed that this was likely Feynriel; they had managed to arrive in time.

The lead slaver held a blade to his throat, if they attacked the boy would die, Hawke did not deny that.

Fortunately, there were alternatives to fighting.

She and Varric had discussed this on their way. If the place was lightly defended they would attack and rescue the boy, if it looked like too hard a nut to crack, Varric had a good bullshit story already lined up.

He warned the man about harming Feynriel, saying that the boy was in reality the lovechild of the Viscount and his elven mistress. A boy greatly loved by the city's ruler, a boy that the Viscount had pledged to defend, even if it meant burning down half the Free Marches.

The slaver listened to the tale, Varric was a skilled liar, and hit all the right notes to sell the deception. The story worked because it was not that improbable, many a noble was known to keep an elven lover or to, it might not have been right, but it was an accepted practice among the nobility.

The slaver decided to take the cautious way out, he released the boy into Hawke's custody, asking the Viscount to accept their apology, even going so far as offering a small sack of coins as an offering of peace.

Moira accepted both, and let the slavers leave. Though she did warn them, in the spirit of cooperation, not to return to this cave, the Viscount could not allow such an operation to continue this close to his city.

The slavers seemed to accept this warning in the spirit that it was given. They would likely set up elsewhere, but without Danzig, it would take them time to get their operations up and running again. Aveline would make sure that they would never be able to use this place as a base again, likely sealing the entrance so that no one else got any ideas of using it.

Fenris was a little annoyed about sparing these men, but accepted that it was likely the only way to get the boy out safely.

"They will be back Hawke," he warned, "You know that."

"Yes," she answered, "And if they are so foolish, we will end them all."

Fenris nodded, approving of her words.

As for Feynriel, the boy seemed a little worried about all this; he had gone from being prisoner of one heavily armed group, to now finding himself in the hands of another.

"Who are you," he asked, "What do you want with me? Are you with the Templars?"

"Your mother sent us," she informed him.

The boy snorted.

"Same difference," he said morosely, "One bad dream and it is off to the Templars. All her talk about how 'I love you, and I will protect you' was just that talk."

"Your mother was worried about you," Moira said, "It is not easy growing up with magic."

"How would you know," the boy said defiantly.

Moira raised her hand, blue sparks danced between her fingers.

"Because I **am** you," she said.

"We **both** are," Bethany said stepping forward, a glowing ball of magic appeared in her own hand.

The sight silenced the boy.

He looked at the Hawke sisters would new found respect.

"I…I have never met another apostate before."

Moira and Bethany both laughed at that.

"We got lucky," Moira said.

"Our father studied in the Circle, trained there, he managed to escape."

"I…I don't suppose you would help me," Feynriel asked, "Help me stay out of the Gallows."

Before Hawke could answer, Keran spoke up.

"Are you really plagued by demons," the former Templar asked, "Your mother was worried about that."

The boy lowered his head.

"I…I don't really know. I hear, voices when I sleep, asking me to come to them, give shape to the world around them. I…I dunno."

He gave Moira a desperate look.

"You must know that there is no mercy for mages in this city. You do something the Templars don't like you get the brand. I…I don't want to end up like that."

"It should not be that simple, making someone tranquil," Keran said.

Anders glared at him.

The former Templar sighed.

"Unfortunately that is not always the case."

"There are independent mages in Kirkwall. They might take him in," Anders suggested.

Hawke frowned at that.

She, having met some of those independent mages, knew what kind of people they were. Some had their hearts in the right place, but she could not see any of them being able to help the boy.

"If you had a choice Feynriel, where would you wish to go?"

The boy sighed heavily.

"I had thought about seeking out the Dalish," he said, "I'm as much an elf as I am human, I was raised hearing about them. They have had magic forever; surely they might understand what is happening with me."

Moira's brow furrowed.

It was…possible she supposed. Still she remembered how Merrill's clan had reacted when she was cast out.

She was not sure how accepting Marethari would be.

"You would be alone among the Dalish," she reminded him, "Even if the keeper says yes; it would not be easy for you."

The boy laughed nervously.

"I would rather be lonely than tranquil or a Templar prisoner."

Hawke's brow furrowed. She glanced over at Keran, if any of her companions would have a problem with this, it was likely him.

"If the Dalish can help," he said, "And he is no danger to anyone else, I can see no problem with any of this."

She glanced up at the rest of her companions. Fenris kept his own council, but Anders, Bethany, and Varric all seemed warm to the idea.

She smiled slightly.

"I have spoken with the Dalish Keeper before," she said, "I think we might be able to convince her to take you in."

The boy's eyes lit up.

"Seriously," He asked

"Yes, I…I think so."

Feynriel beamed.

"Praise the Creators that you were the ones who found me. Perhaps this will work; I will do everything I can to make it work."

Hawke smiled,

It wasn't a perfection solution, but when did they ever find one.

Anders laughed slightly.

"So," he said dryly, "What are we going to tell mommy dearest?"

Moira pursed her lips.

That was a good question…

…A very good question indeed.


	33. The Knight and the Tavern Girl

**Chapter 33: The Knight and the Tavern Girl**

The sea breeze blew gently through the open windows of the Hightown Inn. Carver Hawke lounged on his feather bed, his hands behind his head, and his eyes closed. It had been another late night, and this morning he was slow to rise, enjoying the sensation of the good sea air.

It had been several weeks since his arrival in Kirkwall, in that time; he had many more than a few contacts in the noble community, mostly through taking jobs as either a bodyguard or mercenary for this house or that. During those meetings, he had always been introduced simply as Ser Carver, which was not a lie, he **had** been knighted by King Alistair after the Blight, and considering what he had done during the siege of Denerim, he had earned that title.

Knights in Hightown were almost two coppers a dozen, yet few had seen any true battle, many of the highborn who had that title had received it for aiding in business ventures, not battle. When nobles needed protection, or someone to carry out their will, they preferred a knight that actually had seen combat, and both were willing to pay fairly well for it.

That pay was how Carver had been able to afford his room here.

He frowned slightly.

A room that was far nicer than the space his family now shared.

He had not been pleased when he had learned what had happened to House Amell, and even less pleased when he discovered that mother and the girls were now living in Lowtown with their uncle. When he had first learned of it, he had almost stormed into Gamlen Amell's hovel and took his family out of there. Only fear and caution had stopped him from even attempting that, caution that proved to be wise as he slowly began to learn about what his sisters had been up to in the last year.

Tales of smugglers work reached his ears, followed by independent mercenary work shortly after. His sisters now counted outlaws, apostates and pirates as their companions. Both of the girls had earned a reputation, and no one would say that that reputation was good.

Hearing what had happened, it had left his mind boggled.

Moira had always been afraid of her own shadow. She hid in the woods when she even heard the name Templar whispered, now it was said she had marched into the Gallows at least twice, taking up jobs for the Knight-Captain of all people. Bethany had always been so innocent, innocent and fresh as a morning dew drop. Now he heard of her working closely with an apostate mage in Lowtown, a man of many dark rumors, despite his good deeds and a desire to help the Ferelden refugees.

These hard facts troubled Carver, troubled him and made his desire to reunite with his family much more difficult. Both of his sisters had become so hardened by their time in Kirkwall, and part of him feared that it was his fault; had he been here…maybe he could…he could have…

He sighed heavily.

He could not change what had happened.

What was done was done.

"What are you going to do?"

The question had come from the person lying in the bed next to him, her soft pale skin warming his bare skin wherever it touched, he had tried to be quiet, to let her sleep. She had come to him late last night, and given what he had faced, he had had tensions he had needed to work out.

She had been most helpful in… _relieving_ those tensions, more than once to be honest. Yet now, her words brought them back.

He sighed.

"About my family?" he asked.

The girl rolled over, her brown cat-like eyes meeting his, her expression serious.

"Yes," Marissa Shore said, "About them."

Carver grimaced; there was no easy answer to that question.

"It is not like I can just walk up to them like nothing has happened," he said, "They watched me die, Marissa. If not for the witch, I would be dead."

The serving girl frowned.

She had laughed when he had first told her his story, laughter that had died quickly when she saw how serious he was as he told it. Marissa was Ferelden born; she had no doubt heard tales of the witches of the wilds as a girl.

Likely she had thought those tales only legends, but deep down had feared what it meant if they were real.

Carver stared up at the ceiling; trying to imagine what it would be like if he did simply try and rejoin his family. He feared that his mother would fall dead from shock alone, and the girls…what in Andraste's name could he say to the girls. They might accept that he had been bewitched, but that did not explain his silence after, he had no excuse for that, save one.

Despite everything he had done, Carver Hawke had been afraid, afraid of what he would learn when he did go looking for his family, even though the search had consumed his every waking hour since the Archdemon had fell.

Marissa's brow furrowed with thought, the sight amused Carver, and it was all he could do to hold himself back from pulling his lover in for a soft and tender kiss. Though he had spent his first night in Kirkwall in her home, they had not slept together then. In fact it had taken almost two weeks of meals and polite conversation before he had managed to sweet talk her into his bed. Some Tavern girls he had seen offered themselves up easily. Marissa had not been that type of girl. They had spent most of their first evening talking, him telling her about what had brought him to Kirkwall, and her telling him about her own…strange path to the City of Chains.

If anything, he realized looking back, she had been the more aggressive in their…whatever this was…a relationship, perhaps. Growing up in Lothering and then serving in the Ferelden army during the civil war and Blight had not given him a lot of time to talk with girls. He had flirted with them on and off, but after he had become bewitched, his mission took precedence. Marissa had responded to his flirting, and in returning it put him at ease enough to that he finally broached the subject of them spending the night together.

He had been…a little uncertain, at first. She had taken charge and helped him relax. She had not seduced him per se, but she had helped him becoming comfortable enough to explore both his and her desires. He had felt safe with her, and let his guard down, and in doing so, she had let down hers.

This was not easy, she admitted, especially considering how she had come to be in Kirkwall.

She had confided in him that she had no memory of her time in Ferelden, though she did know that that was where she had been from, not that her accent left much doubt. According to the girl, she had been found floating off the shores of Amaranthine, the only survivor of what had clearly been a bad ship wreck. The ship that had saved her had been under the command of a minor lord who had fled his land when the darkspawn horde had hit it. They had pulled her from the water, a deep bloody gash in the top of her head. The wound had been deep; she likely would not have lived to see Kirkwall had the lord not had a mage travelling with him. A mage who then used his healing magic to save her life, three days later, she had awoke, awoke with no memory of who she was and what she had been doing.

Carver winced; he had seen the red scar that was all but hidden beneath the girl's dark hair. The fact that she had survived taking such a wound was a miracle in itself.

Her clothing offered no clue, though clearly not the clothes of a mere peasant, there was no pin or markings of any kind to suggest she was from a noble house. The dagger she had been found with was of fine make, but that did not mean much, anyone could take up a dagger, for all Marissa knew she had found it on the ship that had been lost.

The lord had taken pity on her, and offered her a place in his household, at least until they could learn who she truly was. He likely suspected her of noble birth, and perhaps thought that he could get reward for returning her to her family, still that did not take away that he had shown her kindness in bringing her with him. One of the crew said she reminded him of a girl he knew in Nevarra, a girl called Marissa, and soon the rest of the crew were calling her by that name. The name shore she took for herself, considering where she had been found, and so Marissa Shore had been born, whoever she had been before being pulled from the sea could not say, and now she was a member of a lord's household. Of course, that had not lasted long, the man had contracted some sickness from the darkspawn and had died shortly after entering the city, the mage who had saved her life was sent to the Circle, and Marissa had been cast out on the street. Lirene of Lirene's Ferelden imports had helped her get her job at the Hanged Man, and the rest was history.

She slipped out of their bed, and padded across the thick Tevinter carpet. Carver watched her with rapt attention, enjoying the look of her naked body, he was no drooling lecher, but that did not mean that he was above enjoying a sight of great beauty.

She glanced around trying to find where he had thrown her smalls during their passions last night, finding them she pulled them on.

"You are quite lucky you know," she said.

"I'm aware of that," he said grinning, not taking his eyes off her.

She glanced up and blushed slightly when she realized what he was talking about.

"I mean your family," she clarified with a sad sigh.

"It would be nice to know that I had a family to go back to."

Carver frowned slightly

"A family that I have no real idea how to approach," he admitted, "not without causing more pain than I already have."

"It wasn't your fault Carver."

"Wasn't it?"

"You did not ask to be bewitched," she reminded him.

"I attacked an ogre without thinking," he said, "If not for the witch's spell, my stupidity would have gotten me killed for certain."

"Perhaps." She said slipping on her breast band, "Or perhaps one of your sisters would have died or your mother."

Carver winced at that thought.

Had mother or one of the girls had died, he would never have forgiven himself.

"I was willing to sacrifice myself," he admitted.

She smiled slightly.

"That I do not doubt," she cooed, "my knight in shining armor.

He blushed slightly under her warm regard.

He leaned back again, once again staring up at the ceiling.

"They have mourned and moved on," he said, "Who am I to throw their lives back into chaos again?"

They are _**your**_ family," she reminded him; "You said you wanted to find them, to _rejoin_ them?"

"I do," he admitted, "But…Marissa, I…they…they…Damn it!"

He pounded his fist angrily into the mattress. His anger startled even her.

He shook his head.

"I'm a _**bloody coward**_ ," he spat, "I should have stayed in Ferelden, let them get on with their lives."

He shuddered and took a deep breath.

"They do not need me anymore."

She gave him a sympathetic look and returned to the bed, she sat down next to him, her expression warm and gentle.

She traced lazy circles on his bare chest, her gentle touch arousing him, bringing goosebumps to his arms. For a moment, he simply lay there, enjoying her touch, let it take away some of the guilt and his fears.

Only when that was done, did she finally speak her words like a balm; sunlight and warm honey.

"You are no coward," she murmured, "I've seen enough of you to know that."

He gave her a sheepish grin.

"I'm brave in some things," he admitted, "In this, not so much."

She made a face, clearly deep in thought. Slowly a smile came to her lips.

"What," he asked.

Her smile grew.

"Perhaps you need to find someone to _help_ you, someone to soften the blow when you go to meet with them again. Someone that your family trusts, or even better who your mother trusts."

Carver's brow furrowed.

"You have someone in mind?"

"Maybe," she said, "I heard your sister talking to Master Tethras, something about some Lord in Ostwick, a good friend to your mother. He is quite fond of her from what I heard your sister say, and she of him."

Carver considered that. He was not happy to hear that his mother had caught some lord's eye, or that she had caught it years ago. Mother would always belong with Father in his eyes, yet…still…

"I suppose that I could introduce myself to him," he said, "Tell him what happened."

"It may take a bit to get him to believe you. You may have to be cautious, at first," she advised.

Yet, Carver nodded.

A friend of his mother, he thought, someone who could soften the blow, someone who could reintroduce him to his family.

He smiled slightly.

He found himself _**liking**_ the idea.

He had earned a bit of reputation these last few weeks. He could find one of the lord's allies here; find a way to get an audience with the man himself. Lords always needed sharp blading to look after their interests.

After earning the man's trust, he could approach him with his story, if he was familiar with mother, he might be persuaded to see her again, tell her the story about a young warrior who had been thought dead, but in truth bewitched by a witch of the wilds. A warrior named Carver.

He smiled.

She would be curious, but…hopeful, she might ask her friend to set up a meeting between them, just so she could put her mind at ease. Make sure the young man was who he said he was.

 _It could work,_ he thought.

 _It could_ _ **really**_ _work._

There would be no shock, not like if he simply dropped on their doorstep out of the blue. It would give her hope, and he would be able to turn that hope into reality.

He looked at his lover, it was a good plan she had come up with, a fair plan.

He smiled up at Marissa, who was grinning down at him, her fingers still tracing lines of heat down his body.

"Did anyone ever tell you that you are a genius?'

She laughed lightly.

"All the time," she quipped, "They are quite impressed with my skill at serving drinks."

He laughed lightly, rose out of bed and pulled her into a tight embrace, she squealed, but he stopped that soon enough, kissing her deeply, passionately.

The girl groaned with rising passion, still clad only in her under garments, he could feel her body stirring, starting to respond to his.

When they came up for air, he grinned lecherously at her.

"Stay with me," he murmured, "Spend the day in bed."

She giggled and kissed his nose.

"Tempting, my lord," she said, "But some of us do have jobs to get to, and can't simply make coin by swinging a sword."

He looked slightly hurt by her words, but she salved that wound with another kiss.

"I need to get you that lord's name," she said, "Once that is done; you can get to the business of reintroducing yourself to your loved ones."

Carver nodded, her words made sense, despite what his body was telling right now, he needed to let her go. They would have time to…indulge their physical desires later.

It was annoyance, but it was one he could live with.

He let her slip out of his arms, watched her closely as she dressed, feeling a sense of peace he had never felt before.

He was attracted to this woman, make no mistake, but it was quickly growing into more than that, she made him feel happy, at ease, and comfortable.

Perhaps, what they had was more than just a fun fling…?

Perhaps it might turn into something more, if they let it.

He did not care about her history, he only cared about that she was here, who she was now, who she was when they were together.

She gave him a little wave as she slipped out of his room.

"Until next time, Milord," she said with coy smile.

"Until then, Milady," he said as she closed the door behind her.

Carver sighed and leaned back again, a happy smile on his face.

He would not be able to spend all day in bed.

He needed to get up, pay a visit to a few of his former employers see if they had anything they needed doing. When Marissa returned with the Lordling's name, he suspected that he was going to be quite busy.

Quite busy indeed.


	34. What to Say

**A/N: Little mature this chapter, please be warned.**

 **Chapter 34: What to Say**

" _While Carver was preparing to head to Ostwick, Hawke had raised enough coin that even my brother realized that we would be leaving for the deep roads soon. He was still not happy about having a partner, but the fact that had coin, and a means of moving our treasure after, did much to sooth any complaint."_

 _Varric snorted at the memory._

 _Had they realized what they were getting into, they probably would have abandoned the venture right there. Moira had had prospects by then, the Bone Pit mine was almost up and running again and she had done fairly well for herself working for the guard in clearing out undesirables."_

 _Cassandra gave him an arched look._

 _The dwarf chuckled._

" _Okay," he said raising his hands, "We were undesirables to…technically. Having Aveline in charge of the guard helped us a lot."_

 _The dwarf leaned back in his chair._

" _Not all are preparations involved fighting and looking for shit. Someone had to handle the business end of the deal. Now that Hawke had a growing stake in venture, I agreed to take up some of the slack on that. Maker knows; I was smart enough not to leave all those details to Bartrand. He might have been family, but that did not mean that I did not thing he would rob us all blind given the chance."_

" _And what sort of details were those?" the Seeker asked._

" _Housekeeping stuff mostly," Varric admitted, "Meeting with people on Hawke's behalf, people that she either did not like very much, or was worried might recognize what she was."_

 _Varric frowned slightly._

" _Now that I think back," he added, "One of those meetings should have ended far different. I let my emotions get in the way of my good sense."_

 _Cassandra gave him a curious look._

" _How so?" she inquired._

 _Varric sighed._

" _Sometimes I put far too much trust in my friends."_

IOI

"This is for your Serah deCarrac."

Varric sat the wedding ring on the table. He had summoned Ghyslain deCarrac to the Hanged Man to give the man the final report on their search for his missing wife, Ninette. Given the nature of what they were about to discuss, he held their meeting in his apartment, usually he only let Hawke and her allies up here, but this was different. After what they had found in that Lowtown Foundry, he thought it best that they discuss this matter in private. Not that he was completely open with the man of course; he doubted that the man needed all the grisly details. After seeing what he had seen, he was glad that dwarves didn't dream, that place likely would have given him nightmares.

He had no desire to further disturb their client, there was nothing the man could do, and Aveline's people were now involved in following up what they had found.

That was all they could do.

He hoped that this offering would put this job to bed. They had no way to be sure it belonged to the man's absent wife, but…

Ghyslain deCarrac looked down, his eyes widened slightly at the sight of it.

"Ninette's wedding ring…yes," he murmured. He plucked it from the table and held it with a slightly trembling hand. He looked up at the dwarf, his eyes questing for answers.

"Where…where did you find this?"

Varric paused.

The truth…wasn't pretty.

He sighed heavily.

"All you need to know is that she won't be coming back," the dwarf answered, "You have my sympathies, Serah."

The man shook his head. He turned the ring over, reading the inscription there.

"Forever faithful," he recited, "Forever Yours, written in happier times, those words, sometimes I fear I only dreamed those years."

Varric winced.

He knew what it was like to lose someone he loved. He knew that Hawke found the man deplorable, he had only went seeking his wayward wife when her wealthy family started threatening him. Ninette deCarrac had been a bit of a wild one, they had seen enough evidence of that. They had spoken with several of her friends at the Blooming Rose, and knew about at least some of her…interests.

Still…that did not mean she had deserved what happened to her.

Ghyslain sighed.

"I will send this ring back to her family," he said, "With luck; they will believe that I had nothing to do with her disappearance."

He smiled finally; it was a sad smile though. The man no doubt realized that he had lost his wife long ago, perhaps on some level he had come to expect that she would not return one day.

"You have my gratitude, Serah Dwarf," he said dropping the pre-offered sum of gold on Varric's table. The dwarf scooped them up, and walked his guest to the door. As Ghyslain stepped out into the Hanged Man, Varric placed the coins in his strong box. He would give them to Hawke later, after she returned from her meeting with her old boss, Athenril.

He closed the door to his apartment with a sigh. He did that when he wished to end his working day. It was getting a little late, but he did not feel tired, plus he wanted to wait up, see what Hawke had heard from Athenril.

The smuggler chieftain had been having some issues with the Carta, or so her letter claimed. Hawke had hopes that she could turn the elven smugglers request into a few coins, for old time's sake.

Varric sat down at his desk, he poured himself a glass of wine from the bottle he had nearby, his private stock tonight, not the stuff that Corff served down below.

The dwarf sighed.

The business with Ninette deCarrac still ate at him.

They had followed the leads on the case quite carefully. Eventually those clues had led them to a senior Templar named Emeric. Emeric had been investigating the disappearance of one of the mages from the Gallows. He had followed her phylactery to a Lowtown Foundry; the trail had ended there with no further sign of the mage. Hawke decided to have a look for herself, if the two disappearances were related, they needed to find out. They had arrived at the foundry, and immediately found themselves under attack by shades, shades and a desire demon of all things. There group had made short work of the creatures, but whomever had summoned the things had been long gone by that point. They searched the foundry, they had not found Ninette, but they had found a sack of human bones, that and a woman's hand…a hand wearing Ninette's ring.

Varric shuddered.

He had thought that Sunshine was going to be sick when she had seen that, not that he would have blamed her. She had ended up leaning hard on Anders. The former warden had no doubt seen worst things in his time, but he did his best to comfort the girl. Varric had to admit, the sight had made him a little green as well, and he thought he was used to the depravities that were commonplace here in the city of chains.

It seemed safe to say, that he had not seen everything this city had to offer.

He worried what would happen to his mind when he did.

Aveline had promised to pick up the investigation, while Keran had gone to the Gallows to inform Emeric of what they had learned. Hawke thought it safer to send the former Templar. She had been spending too much time stopping by the Gallows lately, even if it was only for work. She had brought the Templars Thrask the letter from his late daughter, brought it to him, and promised him to keep her secret. The man was clearly mourning his daughter; there was no reason to make him suffer further by outing him for trying to protect her.

The dwarf sighed.

Things were starting to fall into place; that was a good thing. He hoped that they would finally be on their way to the deep roads before the month was out. According to one of his contacts in Ferelden the bulk of the former darkspawn horde were still in Ferelden. It was best that they leave before the creatures disperse any further. The more spawn down there, the more likely their mission would turn to shit before they even reached their destination.

KNOCK! KNOCK!

Varric startled, it was rare that anyone here bothered him when his door was closed. The workers here knew not to, and to stop anyone who tried. He paid them well enough for that.

Which meant it was either one of his allies, or something important.

As it turned out, it was both.

"Yeah?" he called out.

"It's Isabela, Varric."

He nodded.

"Come in Rivaini," he called out.

The pirate queen entered his apartment. She glanced around quickly, making sure that he was not entertaining anyone in here.

"We're alone," he said leaning back in his chair, "Got something for me?"

"You could say that," she said, "Though some people will likely not be very happy when they hear about it."

The dwarf's eyes narrowed.

Isabela had been lounging at the bar down below this afternoon; Varric had gone to her at Hawke's behest. He had promised Moira that he would _politely_ check in on Bethany and Anders from time to time, just to make sure that they were not getting into trouble helping people down below.

Personally, he did not like Darktown, and avoided it when all possible, usually only going there in Hawke's company. Rivaini, however, she was known down below. She was a frequent customer of the elven poison mixer Tomwise, another associate of Hawke. Her being in Darktown would not rouse the same suspicions that he would walking around the undercity. Plus, Rivaini could keep a low profile, when she needed to.

Sunshine and Blondie had supposed to come by around dinnertime, they did that normally, unless the people of the Undercity kept them busy, but today they had not shown. Varric, having grown curious, asked Isabela to pop in on them.

He asked the pirate queen to sit down. He poured her a glass of wine, and she began her tale.

"Went to Darktown like you asked," she began, "Headed straight for Blondie's figure I could just drop in and see if they wanted to go get a drink or two. No reason to tell 'em I was checking up on them."

Varric nodded and asked for her to continue.

"Now, here is when things get interesting. I went up the stairs, the ones leading to the clinic. I was a bit surprised to see that the lantern was out. Anders only does that when he is either traveling with us, or closed down for the night to rest."

Again the dwarf nodded, they had been around Anders enough now to know his habits, when he was not travelling with them; he was usually in his clinic helping people, leaving only to fetch healing herbs or other healer supplies.

"He and Sunshine were probably out on a supply run."

"I thought that to, at first," Isabela said, "I moved closer to the door, figuring I would wait, that is when I started to feel…well…strange."

Varric arched and eyebrow.

"Strange," he repeated.

The pirate nodded.

"Strange how?"

"Like I shouldn't go any closer, that there was something bad inside, and…Maker only knew what would happen if I went in. I've learned to trust my instincts over the years, so I started to back away. Imagine my surprise when the uneasiness faded the when I was halfway down the steps. It felt like…well…it felt like I had just come up from underwater, the feeling went away. I tried to go back, and the same thing happened the same sense of well…uneasiness."

Isabela frowned.

"I'm no coward," she said, "I'm used to focusing when I'm under threat, I would be a piss-poor duelist if I wasn't. The thing I immediately noticed was that I was not the only person avoiding Anders' door. There was absolutely **no** one around. Not even one of the beggars within ten feet of the clinic. If you have spent any time in Darktown, you know how rare that is to find an open space completely unoccupied, especially with all the refugees living down below."

Varric's stomach twisted.

He was starting to think that Hawke would not like what he had to tell her later.

"I did not let the feeling chase me off. I moved closer to the door, and then, as I came up close to it, the sense of uneasiness was gone. It was the strangest thing Varric. It was like…someone put a bubble of bad feelings in front of Anders' door."

The dwarf chuckled darkly.

"Sounds like magic to me," he said, "Maybe Blondie's doing. Maybe, he has been having trouble with the locals. Maybe it is something he is doing now to keep out thieves."

Isabela shrugged.

"Makes sense I suppose."

"Were you able to get inside the clinic?" he asked.

Isabela gave him a wry smile.

"That is what I wanted to talk to you about, don't usually stick my nose in people's private business" she said. Anders doesn't have any locks on his door, usually all in aid are welcome, a sanctuary of healing and all that, you've heard his words about the place."

"Yeah," Varric agreed.

"Well, I thought I could hear voices inside, voices speaking in murmurs, hard to hear, likely impossible if not for the bubble of…whatever it was protecting the door. Made the clinic quiet as a mouse, it did. Otherwise, I likely would not have heard a thing."

Varric's brow furrowed.

"Well don't keep me ins suspense, Rivaini," he said, "Tell me what you heard."

She took a deep breath and swallowed hard.

"Two voices both sounded a little…breathless. Did not hear the full conversation, but I did hear enough. First, I hear someone saying, "Will you do this for me? Will you help us?" Then I hear someone saying "Yes." "Are you sure," the first voice says again, it will be dangerous, I would hate for anything to happen to you." Then the second voice speaks again, well, more of a sigh than anything. "Whatever you want," it says, "Whatever you need."

Varric felt a cold pit starting to open in his stomach.

Danger was nothing new, not to them, but this sounded…off.

"Did you hear anything else?" he asked.

Isabela smirked.

Groaning," she admitted.

Groaning?"

The pirate nodded.

"I managed to get the door open, quietly, not an easy thing with those squeaky hinges, I assure you, with the lantern out outside the door, the clinic was pretty dark, lots of shadows to hide in, gave me a good chance to look around."

Isabela shook her head.

"The clinic looked empty," she told him, "The cots were empty, Anders' little work table looked fully stocked, so it was clear that he had not been very busy today. The candles were pretty much out to, the only light coming from that small fire Anders keeps. I got a little closer, one cot was not empty, it was pretty dark but I could see that it was occupied. I could hear moaning too, figured at first that Anders had some patient staying over, maybe what I heard was some poor feverish sod talking to himself."

"Was it?" Varric asked.

"I think we both know it wasn't. It was our own dear Anders, lying on his side. It did not take long for my eyes to adjust and realize that he was not alone. He was naked of course, with a lady friend sharing his cot, a long tanned feminine leg wrapping around his hip. Neither of them noticed me. They were rutting so; it was unlikely they heard a thing when I showed up. Figured I would l slip out before anyone noticed me, not that there was much chance of that. That is when Anders' special friend rolled him onto his back and mounted him. It took me a second to realize who I was looking at."

Varric tried not to let his jaw hit the floor.

"Sunshine?!"

The pirate nodded again.

"I'm guessing it was not their first time, either. Our little sweetheart seemed to know exactly what she was doing, and didn't seem the least bit shy about the whole thing. I saw Anders rip that pretty little scarf off her neck; from the way that Beth responded, you would have thought it the hottest move ever conceived by man."

Isabela's smirk grew.

"Our little Bethany has a nice body, by the way," she said, "Cute breasts, nice ass; I won't deny that I'd have taken a peak if she had given me an opportunity before this. Anders seemed to have been enjoying himself, and from the noises that our little Beth was making, she didn't have that many complaints either."

The pirate queen chuckled.

"So much for Anders not wanting to get close to anyone," she said "He and Beth got as close as anyone can get," she said slyly, "Guess I can't tease her about being a virgin anymore can I?"

Varric frowned.

Unlike Isabela, he did not see the amusement in all this.

The fact that Anders and Bethany were rutting down in the clinic was no big surprise. He had seen how close she had become to him over the last few weeks. Hawke might not like it, but Bethany wasn't a little girl. She was a grown woman and clearly had desires of her own.

He would never blame anyone for falling in love. Of course this wasn't just a matter of love was it? Anders wasn't exactly a normal suitor was he?

The dwarf's frown deepened.

It was the words Isabela had heard that bothered him.

She gave him a knowing look.

"You are not going to go running to Hawke with this are you?"

Varric sighed.

"Shouldn't I? You said you heard them talking about danger."

"How do we know they weren't role playing," the pirate exclaimed, "Or our sweet little Anders might have been referring to himself. Maybe _**he**_ was danger that he was warning Beth about or maybe it was just foreplay."

The pirate grinned.

"People say all kinds of things before they jump between the sheets. Trust me; I've heard all kinds of things."

Varric leaned back in his chair. In his head, he was trying to compose just what he was going to say to Moira. She was not going to be happy that was for sure.

Anders still had the maps, he realized, the deep roads maps they were going to need for their expedition. Everything had been falling into place so nicely, and now this.

He tried to imagine what would happen when he went to Hawke with this. She would be pissed with Anders that was for certain. Moira would go all big-sister on Blondie and everything they had gained in the last few months might just go up in smoke.

Yet if he said nothing, and Anders convinced Bethany to do something dangerous on his behalf, he would not deny the fact that he had come to care about Sunshine. She had never been anything but sweet to any of them. If something happened to her, and he didn't tell Moira…she would never forgive him for that, but if he just blurted it out, he could kill their entire expedition and all because Sunshine decided to use their rebel warden for more than just his magic.

Varric's eyes narrowed.

He did not see any way to win here.

"May I put my two coppers in?" Isabela asked.

Varric nodded.

Why not, he thought.

It was not like Rivaini could make anything worse.

Before you go blabbing to big sister, why don't you pull our little Bethany aside and ask her about all this."

"And what am I supposed to tell her?" he asked, "That I sent you to the clinic and you caught her and Blondie rutting?"

"I would suggest that you let her know that you know about her and Anders. Find out how serious it is, and let her know that none of us care who she is shagging in dark alleys."

The pirate downed her wine with a single gulp.

"Tell her you are concerned, you actually do care about people Varric despite everything you say to the contrary. Plus, Beth likes you; she would likely open up more to you than she would to her sister. If it sounds like Anders has bad intentions, that he wants Bethany to do something stupid, then you can tell Hawke and me of course."

She gave the dwarf a cruel smile.

"If Anders thinks for one moment that he is going to get away hurting Bethany, he is wrong. If he breaks her heart, I'll cut off his balls.'

Varric, despite the situation, chuckled at that.

"Remind me never to make you mad Rivaini."

"Smart move," she admitted

She glanced out into the hall; she had left the door open while they had spoken. Varric had not even thought of asking her to close the door.

She smiled slyly.

"Our two lovebirds just walked in," she said, "I trust you are clever enough not to spill the whole business before you have a chance to figure out what is what."

Varric closed his eyes, focused on putting any thought of what the two mages had been doing in the clinic out of his head. He would keep it to himself, and reveal nothing until he needed to.

They had put so much into the deep roads venture. Warning Hawke about Anders now could sink the whole enterprise. Besides, he had no right to tell Bethany who she could sleep with or not, Moira did not have that right either.

He sighed heavily.

He was not happy, none of his choices seemed right. So he did what any good dwarf would do. He kept his eye on the money.

He would take Isabela's advice and speak to Sunshine later. It would be an awkward conversation sure, but far less awkward then it would be if her sister was involved.

He hoped that he was just making a mountain out of a mole hill. People were screwing every day in Kirkwall, and the world just kept on moving forward.

He would talk to Bethany later, from there; he would decide what to tell Moira.

They were so close now; the riches of the deep roads were just waiting for them to claim it. Moira and Bethany had just as much to gain as he did.

For their sake, and his, he would let the matter go, for now.

Things needed to move forward.

He would not be the one to stop them.

IOI

" _I told myself I was doing it for all of us," Varric shook his head; he kept his eyes to the floor not looking the Seeker in the eye._

" _Hawke needed the expedition to go forward; we all did that is what I told myself."_

 _He laughed morosely._

" _I was a fucking idiot."_

 _Cassandra's eyes narrowed._

" _You believe that you should have told Hawke about her sister's relationship with the warden?"_

 _Varric nodded._

" _Yeah," he said grimly, "Yeah, I think I should have…it might have caused a little pain at the time, but…_

 _He closed his eyes, thinking of everything that happened later, both in the Gallows, and what had happened since…_

" _If I had just told Moira at the time..."_

 _He shook his head again._

" _Who knows how many people might still be alive today."_


	35. The Peace

**Chapter 35: The Peace**

"You okay Hawke?"

Moira glanced down at Varric. The concern on his face was not something she got to see very often.

The look made her smile.

"Worried about little old me, Varric," she said dryly, "I'm touched."

The dwarf chuckled.

"Just wanted to make sure that you were not going to go to the Chantry and do something stupid," he said, "Not that I would blame you, not after what that bitch pulled."

Moira's eyes narrowed.

She would be lying if she said that she had not considered tracking down Sister Petrice and her little helper Ser Varnell, Templar or no Templar, what the two of them had done what they had tricked her and her friends into doing…

Even the most gentle of souls would have at least considered heading up to Hightown for a little payback.

She, Varric and Aveline had just left the Qunari compound. Considering that their latest adventure had ended with a company of Qunari soldiers ending up dead, she had thought it wise to go to the Arishok, clear the air, so to speak.

She already had enough enemies in this city; she had no desire to make the Qunari an enemy as well. Arvaarad and his men had attacked her first, not caring about what had brought them all together. The Qunari officer had panicked when he realized that she was an unbound mage, he had died shouting that she had tried to poison his control, infect him with demonic influence.

Moira shook her head.

It seemed that the Qunari feared magic as much as the rest of Thedas did. She was not sure if she should take comfort in that knowledge or not. In the end, it had not mattered, Arvaarad was dead, as were his soldiers, and the Saarebas they had been sent to recover had killed himself…

Hawke frowned slightly.

And all because a chantry sister believed that the peace between the Qunari and Kirkwall would not last.

IOI

It had all started out so innocently. Moira and Aveline had been on their way to the Hanged Man. Aveline, through her contacts, had just arranged for a boy name Pryce and his sisters to leave Kirkwall. The boy had been working for Hawke's old boss Athenril, and had nearly died in a Coterie set trap. Hawke had killed the coterie, but rather than return the goods the boy had been trying to move, she let him take it, the coin that the goods would fetch would serve well to help set the boy and his family up with a new life, one that did not include smuggling for Athenril.

Hawke had lied to her former employer, telling her that the coterie had gotten the goods, and that there was no sign of Pryce. The elven smuggler had bought the story, or at least seemed to. Moira still had enough friends in Athenril's organization that if she ever did learn the truth, Hawke would find out ahead of time, and with luck and the success of their expedition, she would be more than able to pay her back with interest, if it came to that, not that she suspected that it would.

Despite what people said about the elf, she was bit more soft hearted than most people thought. Hawke did not think that she would take any revenge on the boy. She had come to respect Moira enough that if any problems did arise, she would come to her about it.

Hawke was not above aiding her old boss, not if it helped keep the peace.

The sun had just set when the two of them had spotted a chantry sister speaking with one of the many thugs that worked the streets down here. Both Hawke and Aveline had had experience with him, though their dealings had come from the opposite sides of the law. The man had a reputation for taking on a job, and simply killing his employers when they showed him the money that they were offering.

Moira shook her head as she watched the sister follow the man into a dark alley.

"Another sad Lowtown story about to take place," she said dryly.

Aveline, being Aveline, had decided to not let the matter stand. She stormed into the alley with Moira close behind them. They arrived in time to save the sister and make sure the thug and his boys wouldn't be trying this ever again. The sister, a woman calling herself Petrice, had thanked them both, and offered them the job that she had just approached her would-be murderers with.

Hawke had been surprised, the woman had nearly died, yet she was still looking to recruit. The fact that they had just met should have set off at least some warning bells, but…still…she had been willing to listen. They only needed a few more gold to finally start for the deep roads. Helping a chantry sister seemed to be a good idea, after all, when had anyone heard of a chantry sister doing anything illegal?

As it turned out, they had thought wrong.

They had gone to the Hanged Man first, fetching both Fenris and Varric. Isabela was off somewhere, and Merrill was likely still in her little hovel doing whatever the Dalish did when they were not out and about. Bethany and Anders had been off to gather healing herbs for the clinic; they had stopped in only to get some food before getting back to work. Varric had given them both an odd look, but Moira had decided not to say anything.

If the dwarf had something to say, he would let her know.

They had journeyed to the address Petrice had given them. The sister had let them in with barely a word. The job was simple she said, she needed aid with a burden of charity, a poor soul needed to be safely escorted out of the city, through the tunnels of Darktown.

It was then that this "Burden" stepped into the light. His chains rattling as he came to a stop before them.

The bound Qunari mage said nothing, not that he likely could considering the heavy collar and mask that had been strapped to his face.

"I call him Ketojan," Petrice had said, "A bridge between worlds."

Hawke had frowned.

 _Ketojan,_ she thought, _trouble was a better name for him._

Hawke had faced such a creature in battle before. Petrice claimed him to be a survivor of a battle between the Qunari and Tal Vashoth outlaws. Her bodyguard Ser Varnell had discovered him following a skirmish between the two parties, and, in the name of good Andrastian charity, and brought the creature to her.

Hawke looked over at the Templar. She had been a bit worried the first time she had seen him, fearing some kind of trap. Varnell had cold flinty eyes and harsh unforgiving features.

He did not look like a man who knew much about good Andrastian charity.

Still gold was gold, and they had need of it. Petrice had a map she had acquired for tunnels beneath the house they were standing in. The sister recognized the danger of such a journey so she had sought out someone with what she had called "pure heart and bloody skill." Moira was not sure about the pure heart thing, but she thought that they would be able to get the mage out of the city.

After that, the mage could go where he liked. She was not sure what kind of life he would have wearing that collar of his, but as Petrice had said, at least his future would be his own, he would have a chance to decide.

Hawke had sighed.

They needed the gold and the cause seemed just.

She agreed to see the mage out of the city.

The tunnels themselves had been infested with giant spiders, and more than a few traps, likely set by Kirkwallers trying to keep the beasts from coming up into Lowtown. She Aveline and Fenris were more than skilled to deal with the former, and Varric dealt with the latter with his own roguish skills. The Qunari mage did little but follow as they made their way through the gloom. Aveline had commented that considering that they were fighting for his freedom, the least the creature could do was help.

At least he is moving, Hawke thought, maybe he did not truly understand what was going on? She had seen and felt the powers of a Qunari mage during a fight with the Tal Vashoth, she knew the kind of power such a creature wielded.

The fact that it chose not to use those powers was strange.

They had continued on, they were almost out when they encountered a gang of Kirkwall toughs hiding near the entrance. Their leader had been interested in extracting a toll from them, and was willing to threaten harm to get it.

The Qunari mage had growled at that threat, stepping forward to try and protect Hawke.

She was about to tell him to calm himself, but before she could the leader of the toughs drew his blade. The Qunari mage struck first blasting him with an arcane bolt flinging him hard against the wall killing him instantly.

Of course, the man's fellows tried to attack to avenge that death, but now found themselves greatly overmatched. Hawke and her allies did what they could, but their charge did the most of the damage. The tunnel soon filled with white and gold magical flames, flames that consumed their attackers.

Ketojan did not let up until Hawke ordered him to stop, one word was all it had taken, and the Qunari had gone docile again.

When she tried to question him on what he had done, he merely growled in response.

Had he reacted so violently because his lead had been threatened, she wondered?

Whatever his reason, the Qunari had gone silent again, and the way was now clear.

Hawke led them through to the exit, but the night was not yet done with its surprises.

They emerged to find a full company of Qunari soldiers waiting for them, soldiers that claimed that they had murdered a group of their fellows.

Moira had tried to explain. Yet the group's commander a soldier calling himself the Arvaarad would not hear her. The Qunari had followed the trail from the dead warriors, and trail that led here. As far as the Qunari officer was concerned that was all the proof he had needed.

The Qunari mage, the one they called Saarebas, bowed to the commander when he saw him though it was clear that he had no interest in bringing the mage back into their fold. Hawke might still have been able to avoid a fight, but the Arvaarad discovered that she was a mage as well.

He attacked without any further word, believing that she was trying to poison his control. He prevented the Saarebas from aiding them through the use of some kind of control rod, a rod that made the mage's collar bring the man to his knees.

Though outnumbered Hawke and her allies managed to fight through, the Qunari had been unprepared to deal with a party with such…unique skills, Fenris alone felled half the party. When it was over, and Arvaarad dead, they freed the Saarebas from his collar.

The creature did not respond in the way they had thought.

He thanked them for their aid, speaking the common tongue for the first time, but he still felt compelled to obey the words of the Arvaarad, he still felt he needed to die.

Moira tried to talk him out of it. He could seek out the Tal Vashoth. There were no doubt free mages that would take him in. He had his life back, why now did he want to die?

"I do not wish to die," the Saarebas said, "I wish to live under the Qun."

"Which means dying," she reminded him.

"Yes," he said with a tired sigh.

She shook her head, more out of frustration than anything else.

They had given the mage his life back; did she have any right to tell him what to do with it?

Whatever his plan was, she would not stop him.

Freedom had to count for something after all.

He thanked her for decision, declaring her basveraad, worthy of following. He was grateful that she understood his duty and boundaries, with that the mage summoned the silver white fire he had used in the tunnels.

The flames consumed him, leaving only bones and bits of leather.

Varric and her friends stood next to her as the mage burned away, none of them looked happy.

"We need to have words with Sister Petrice," Aveline said grimly, "She needs to explain all this."

"I think the explanation is pretty straight forward," Varric said, "The bitch played us."

Moira frowned.

The Qunari had followed a trail here. Someone had left that trail. Petrice had given them the map that opened up out here.

Her eyes narrowed.

Had Petrice wanted this fight? Had she wanted them to die? Why? For what purpose?

Aveline was right, she realized.

Petrice owed them answers.

IOI

Hawke left the Qunari compound with the Sister's words still ringing in her ears.

 _It was nothing personal._

 _Your deaths would have gone far in proving that appeasement will not work._

 _Tell who you will, the word of a Lowtown thug will not be believed._

 _Do not think me cruel, I do mourn the creature's death, but someone needs to think about eternity._

 _The peace will not last._

Petrice was right, Hawke feared, her word against a member of the chantry would not matter much. Varnell had been destroying any trace of their being there when they arrived.

Still…Petrice's smugness had still bothered her.

The sister might not have thought the matter personal, but for Hawke, when someone tried to arrange her death, it was **very** personal.

Fenris had been the one to suggest that they go before the Arishok let him know what had happened.

"He will find out anyway Hawke," the elf had said, "better he hear it from us."

So once again, she had found herself standing before the Arishok's throne, while the Qunari leader listened to her report about what had happened.

The Qunari had been more…understanding than she had thought.

He did not blame her for the Arvaarad's death, though he did suggest that she not make the killing of their soldiers a regular thing. He respected her courage in coming here and explaining what had occurred. Though she left out Petrice's name, she did warn him that there were forces in Kirkwall that sought to break the peace.

The Qunari leader snorted at this.

"The peace would only be broken if the demands of the Qun made it so," he promised, as far as he was concerned the attempt was just a symptom of what was wrong in this city, a symptom that would likely have to be treated later.

As for the matter of the Saarebas, he considered it closed; the mage was dead, which had been the goal all along.

The Arishok dismissed them then, politely, saying that he was pleased that this city was not completely devoid of honor.

Hawke left, still feeling troubled.

"The peace would only be broken if the Qun demanded it," he had said.

Those words made her shiver.

She wondered if Petrice would have been so quick to provoke the Qunari if she saw all the soldiers that the Arishok had under his command, these were not simply farmers with pitchforks, they were hardened warriors.

What kind of damage could they do if they were provoked?

Would the Viscount's men be able to resist them?

It was not something she was personally willing to put to the test.

Moira sighed.

Aveline promised to take what had happened up with the Viscount. Whatever the Qunari's needs they would be met, at least until their rescue ship arrived. For now they just had to focus on keeping things civil.

Moira found herself hoping that the guard captain was right.

She had no desire to find her family caught in the middle of a war zone, again.

If all of Kirkwall had been allowed to see the numbers inside the Qunari compound, they might have agreed too.

How many foolishly thought the Qunari could be easily defeated? How many more Petrices were out there right now, doing Maker knew what?

The peace could not last, the sister had said.

Moira pursed her lips.

For all our sakes, she thought…

…It has to.


	36. Good Deeds

**Chapter 36: Good Deeds**

" _Tell me Seeker," Varric began, "Have you ever heard the saying: 'No good deed goes unpunished?'"_

 _Cassandra Pentaghast snorted, but nodded her head._

 _Varric chuckled to himself._

" _Kirkwall is full of stories that prove that saying true. No more so true than those that involves the champion."_

 _The Seeker snorted again._

 _Varric gave her an arched look._

" _Is that reaction for me saying that the champion did good deeds or simply for me as a storyteller?"_

" _Your words have had the ring of truth so far," she answered him, "But do not test me dwarf. You still have much more to share before I decide your final fate here."_

 _Again Varric sighed._

" _As you say Seeker," he murmured, "Just remember, you said that you wanted the truth here, and that is what I'm giving you. It may not fit easily into whatever report your superiors want to hear."_

 _Cassandra again chose to say nothing. Which was more telling than her simply dismissing him._

 _Varric had been hearing the rumors coming out of Orlais, just like everyone else._

 _He had heard a few things about the Seekers lately, not all of them good._

" _You seem to want to hear more about the Templars and mages, not that that is surprising," the dwarf added, "Let me tell you something about those issues, it was not as black and white as most people would like to think."_

 _The Seeker's eyes narrowed._

" _I will reserve such judgments until I hear what you have to say dwarf," she said grimly._

" _Continue you with story."_

" _As you say Seeker," he answered with a tired sigh._

" _As you say."_

IOI

Moira returned to Gamlen's hovel after another hard day on the coast.

She wrinkled her nose slightly. As always the smell was the first thing that welcomed her home, followed closely by the Mabari pup she had taken in following her adventures on the wounded coast.

The young Mabari bounced happily, wagging his stubby tail. She laughed lightly and gave him a good scratch behind the ears, which was usually all the little hound wanted when she was around.

She looked around briefly at her Uncle's home, though she used the term loosely.

She did not intend for this to be their home much longer, though she recognized the need to be careful, especially after today's exploit.

For every friend she had made in Kirkwall, she was also making enemies.

Today, she had made a particularly powerful one.

IOI

She had accepted a job from a city Magistrate; the man had sought her out, having heard of her rather…colorful reputation. He had charged her with returning an escaped criminal to his custody.

The final results of that job were not to his liking.

Moira had gathered Fenris, Merrill, and Isabela and had taken off in pursuit; they found the man hiding in a creature infested ruin not far from the city. The guard, having trapped him inside, was waiting for him to emerge, ready to take him back into custody.

It was there that she had learned the truth about the man, and his crimes. It was there that the first conflict with the job emerged.

The man had been charged with the killing of several elven children, and had recently taken another. The girl's father was waiting with the guards who had tracked him to this place. Not surprisingly, the elven man demanded the killer's death both for his own child, and the others that had fallen as well.

The knowledge mad the bile rise in Moira's throat. She had killed in self-defense, many times in fact, but the thought of killing an innocent child.

Such a crime had no excuse.

She led the others in, searching for the child killer. They were confronted by several giant spiders, not to mention several demons that had been trapped in these ruins for ages. Finding demons here was not surprising, the ruin appeared Tevinter in origin, and given the Imperium's abuses of their slaves, not to mention their use of blood rituals, demons were far too common a thing in the wild areas of Kirkwall.

After several brief battles, they discovered that the child the man had taken was still alive, a young girl about nine or ten, named Lia. Surprisingly the girl spoke up for her captor, saying that it was not his fault, that the poor man was plagued by demons, and that it was they who were truly guilty here. Merrill agreed to escort the girl outside, the way was mostly clear, but Hawke was still not sure they had gotten all the beasts hiding in the shadows. She preferred that the child have an escort. She had no desire to see the girl die after all this.

They probed deeper into the ruins until they had found the prisoner, a man known as Kelder.

Moira spoke with him briefly, long enough to get to the bottom of what was happening.

The whole thing made her feel dirty.

It seemed that their employer had not been entirely honest with them.

Kelder, it seemed, was the Magistrate's son, and the boy's father had done everything he could to try and protect him. He had approached the Templars about his son's claims, but they had concluded that the boy was simply mad, that no actual demons plagued him.

The only demons here were the ones made up by the man's troubled mind.

It had not been the first time he had escaped his father's custody, and once again he had surrendered to his obsession taking the girl and bringing her here. Yet, this time, he had resisted his dark impulse, he had told the girl to run. He had fled deeper into the ruins, hoping to die, hoping to be free of his demons.

Hawke shook her head.

Damn you, she thought as she looked at the young man, and damn your bastard father for putting us in this position.

If she returned Kelder to the Magistrate, his father, there was no reason to believe that the man would not escape again, he admitted that he had managed that several times already. He might even end up killing even more children. If she killed him, which her three allies seemed to think was the right idea, she would make an enemy of the boy's father. An enemy that would not forget what she had done here.

The mage frowned.

No matter what she did, she realized that she would come out a loser.

In the end she had to make a decision, the only one that she could make giving the circumstances.

She could defend herself.

The elven children of Kirkwall could **not.**

Her blade found Kelder's throat. The child killer collapsed to the stones of the Tevinter ruin's floor.

She had not been completely heartless however; she brought out the man's body, so that it could be given to his father for burning.

Lia's father rewarded them for her safe return, but as the guards took Kelder's body away, she knew that there would be reprisals for what she had done.

She had killed the son of a Magistrate.

He was not likely to forget that.

She had gone to Aveline after that. She wanted to make sure that she heard the whole story, not just what the guards who had waited outside those ruins reported to her. She told the guard captain the whole story. Afterward, they had gone together to see the Magistrate, who had had no words for Moira, not that she blamed him.

A child's death, even a child that had become a monster was not an easy thing to bear.

Now you know how all those elven parents who lost their children to his son felt, a churlish part of her wanted to say. She managed to hold her tongue; there was no point in throwing more fuel on this fire.

Aveline was not as quiet. The fact that there had been a child killer in her city, and that a magistrate had not told her was not something she forgave, or forgot.

She eyed the man coldly.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Ser," she had said, "but at the same time do not think that this matter will go uninvestigated, the murder of children is a serious crime, one that I will not allow to stand."

The guard captain glared at the man.

"The killer is dead, and I'm prepared to say that this matter is closed. I would not advise you to take any action that might make me… _reconsider_ that decision. Further investigation may not be in your best interest."

She had let the veiled threat float in the air for a bit.

"Take my advice Ser," she advised, "and let this matter be."

The Magistrate had given her an icy look, but had left without another word, left to see to his son's burning.

After that, Aveline had advised her to go home and get some rest.

"You did the right thing, Hawke," she said, "The Viscount's headsman should have done it, and would have if that man had done his job."

The guard captain sighed.

"Though I would still be careful on the way home, just in case our dear Magistrate decides not to heed my warning..."

Moira nodded.

She would be careful…Magistrates can and did have powerful friends.

She would be careful, just in case.

IOI

Moira smiled as she entered Gamlen's home. It wasn't much, but at least she had her family.

She could have done without Uncle Gamlen, but…

"Hello everyone," she said.

"Hello dear," Leandra Hawke said from her place at Gamlen's writing desk. She was busy at work composing another letter, who it was to Moira could not say, but after having spoken with Pieter Trevelyan their mother had doubled her efforts to gain the Viscount's attention and acknowledgement of their rights to the family estate.

It might be a bit premature, they would not really be able to do anything until after the expedition, still…seeing her mother focused on something other than her losses warmed her eldest child's heart.

"Sister," Bethany said from her place by the hearth where she was tending the fire. Hawke was also grateful to see her sister here. Part of her had come to feel that she had been spending far too much time down in Anders clinic lately.

It was good to see back among her family….even Uncle Gamlen.

Her mother's brother snorted from the old chair by the fire. He barely acknowledged her, but that was not unusual.

She and Gamlen did not get along, that would likely never change. Unlike mother, she had not forgiven him for squandering mother's share of their family fortune. It might not have been the most charitable thing, but…

Charity did have its limits.

She sat her staff beside the door and joined Bethany by the fire, there had been a bit of a chill in the air on the way home, and it had left her with a bit of shiver, either that or it was fear for whatever reprisal that Magistrate might try.

Hopefully the man would be wise and take Aveline's advice, if he was not.

He glanced up at her sister. Bethany seemed a thousand leagues away, her lips curled into a slight smile. The sight heartened her a bit, for too long Bethany had been so morose, so fearful she…

Moira frowned.

"Beth," she said.

"Yeah, sis?"

"Where is your scarf?"

My scarf?" the younger Hawke said, her hand going to her bare neck.

Leandra looked up from her writing.

"Did something happen to your scarf dear?"

Bethany looked away, she blushed.

"No," she said quickly, "I…um…I must have left it in the clinic. Yes, that is right. I took it off when I was…um mixing some herbs, they are good for colds, but the smell stays on everything."

The girl gave a nervous giggle.

"I'll grab it next time I go see Anders."

Mother, distracted by her letter, nodded and went back to work. Gamlen barely acknowledged that anything had been said, he went back to reading.

Moira having grown up around Bethany, and therefore very familiar when she was not being entirely truthful, gave her sister an arched look.

"What is going on?" she mouthed.

"Nothing," Bethany replied, she got up and went into their small bedroom.

Hawke snorted and followed her little sister with her eyes.

She did not like Bethany's reaction.

It worried her.

"A man came with a letter for you niece," Gamlen said blandly not bothering to look up at her, "It is there by the door," he said pointing to the small table.

"Thank you Uncle," she said.

Gamlen snorted and went back to ignoring her.

I don't argue with him in front of mother, and he tells me when I get mail, she thought morosely.

That is probably as close to familial affection as the two of us will ever get.

She took up the letter and opened it.

The contents were a…mystery to say the least.

The letter contained a note, as well as a small well drawn map. The note was short, requesting that she come as soon as she could, lives were at stake.

The letter was signed: a friend.

Moira frowned.

The note was clearly written by a well-educated hand, she could tell that by lettering.

She was not exactly sure what to make of it, but it made her curious enough to go and see what was going on. It might be a trap but…

That is what friends were for, to make sure that you did not arrive unprepared, and besides…

…it would be nice to do something good; especially after how badly the job for the Magistrate had made her feel.

She welcomed the chance to do some good.

She called for Bethany and the two of them started out for the Hanged Man. They would gather a team and be on their way as quickly as possible; if the note was to be believed they had best hurry.

Lives were at stake.

IOI

The group made its way to a small cave not far from the road leading into Kirkwall. Bethany and Varric stayed close to her, eyes watching for any sign of ambush. Keran and Fenris brought up the rear. The former Templars and Tevinter elf had been playing cards when the Hawke sisters showed up looking for aid.

Neither man hesitated; they both rose and headed out without a further word of complaint.

Varric chatted amiably with Bethany, she seemed more relaxed than she had back home, perhaps welcoming a chance to get out of the city and Darktown.

She might have been doing good work helping Anders with the refugees, but even that could get trying in a city full of Templars. They…

They turned the corner and found themselves staring eye to eye with a single Templar. He looked familiar with his red hair and short beard but Hawke did not remember his name. His posture was relaxed, his sword and shield both sheathed.

"Mistress Hawke," he said with a slight nod.

"Thank you for coming so quickly."

He glanced over her shoulder at the former Templar following her.

"Hello Keran," he said.

"Ser Thrask," the blonde haired warrior said in greeting.

Bethany's eyes widened.

"It is him," she said, "The Templar that was hunting Arianni's son! Oh Maker I knew this was not a good idea!"

"I mean you no harm girl," he said in a soothing voice, keeping his hands away from his weapons.

He turned his eyes to Moira.

"I thank you for your discretion and kindness in helping me lay my daughter to rest," he said, "Olivia deserved better, but at least she is at peace, as for the matter of Feynriel, I have heard that you came up with a creative solution in keeping him out of the circle."

The Templar smiled slightly.

"I'm hoping that you will be able to be so…creative again."

Moira's eyes narrowed, she had no reason to trust the Templar…still…he had made her curious.

She was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.

"I'm listening," she said.

Thrask smiled.

"There is a group of apostates hiding in the cave behind us. They are survivors of the Circle fire in Starkhaven."

Bethany's eyes narrowed, her fear suddenly turning to anger.

"WE will not hunt apostates for you!" she spat.

"Beth," Moira said, "Let the man speak."

"Sister, we can't! We…"

"Beth please," Moira said harshly.

"I said let him speak."

Bethany's mouth snapped shut, though her honey brown eyes darkened in anger as she regarded Ser Thrask.

Moira sighed. She sympathized with her sister; she truly did, but…

She was not Anders. She would not strike down a Templar for no reason. Had he wanted these apostates dead, he could simply have sent for reinforcements.

No.

Thrask was after something else here.

She wanted to find out what that was.

"Go on Ser Thrask," she said.

"Tell me more."


	37. Apostates

**Chapter 37: Apostates**

The tunnels that the apostates had taken shelter in were dark, ran deep and cramped. Any Templar force would have found it very difficult to try and maneuver in such a place, some passageways were only wide enough for Hawke and her companions to move single file, as they probed down deeper, into the darkness.

Varric shuddered.

Not all dwarves liked being underground.

His late mother would have been appalled, no doubt she would have cursed him for losing his stone sense, provided she could have crawled out of her cups long enough to curse him.

Varric would not have cared; he couldn't care less what those in Orzammar thought of him.

Surface dwarf? That was **no** insult to him. The sunshine suited him just fine.

Fenris took point, up next to Hawke. Keran took up the rear guard, just in case any of the mages managed to come up behind them through some side tunnel. Plus, the first thing the mages saw when they came upon them would not be a Templar shield. No point in spooking their quarry too early. The mages would not attack, and Hawke and company would not have to kill anyone. Everybody wins.

The caverns themselves were a maze, though the occasional burning torch suggested that someone had lived here recently.

 _Smuggler's den,_ Varric thought to himself; _either that or an old bandit hideout. They had passed several skeletons on the way down. When the guard cleared out such places they had a tendency to leave the bodies behind as a warning to anyone else who might seek to use such bases to cause trouble._

Ser Thrask hoped to bring these mages in alive. Templar reinforcements were on their way, but from what the red haired Templar had said, they were more interested in making corpses then bringing in more wards for the circle. This Ser Karras that was leading the Templars sounded like a real piece of work.

No point in giving him any reason to get his blade bloody.

 _Better alive in the Circle, than free and dead,_ Thrask had said.

Varric glanced over his shoulder at Bethany, her pretty face looked grimmer than he had ever seen it, and the torchlight gave her features a far more unhealthy and angry look than he had ever seen.

It concerned him, to say the least.

He had been meaning to pull her aside, talk to her privately about Anders and what they were doing together. Blondie's cause was all well and good, but when you added Justice into the mix there was a lot of potential there for disaster.

Who she chose to lay with was her business, but that did not mean he wasn't concerned what effect Blondie was having on her.

Sunshine was a good kid; he did want to see her get hurt. He feared that her admiration for Anders might lead her to do something foolish. Blondie said he did not wish to harm anyone in his pursuit of mage equality, but after their first meeting in the Chantry, it was clear that Justice did not share that view.

I'll talk to her when we get back, he promised himself; at the very least she needs to hear my concerns, if she decides to continue her relationship with Blondie fine…

…At least I will have had my say.

The sound of clattering armor drew their attention. Hawke called them all to a stop.

Varric brought Bianca up. The tight quarters made taking a shot down here dicey, that and the torch he was standing next to darkened the path in front of them, all he could see was the light on Moira and the elf's back.

The clattering drew closer, and he thought he could hear a voice, saying the same thing over and over, or perhaps that was just an echo.

 _What is this now?_ He thought.

 _Had Hawke found one of the mages? Were they…?_

Moira threw a fireball.

Night turned into day.

He caught a glimpse of skeleton warriors shambling towards them, most were on fire from Hawke' attack, but still the undead raised their swords. Fenris roared and leapt forward, his markings flashing. He pushed two of the skeletons out of the way, as Hawke struck them hard with force magic. The elf showed no interest in the skeletons, his target was hiding behind them.

Varric could see a man in robes; the air seemed to be rippling around him. He gestured with his hand as red smoke seemed to be swirling around him.

No, not red smoke Varric realized.

Blood magic.

Despite the tight quarters the elf was still able to bring his great sword down and around, mage staff met blade, and staff was pushed away. Fenris did not hesitate; he shoved a glowing hand into the mage's chest. The Apostate's chanting turned into a cry of surprise which quickly turned to howl of agony.

The elf cursed as the mage fell back, his cries silenced by death. The skeletons tried to push forward, but with the mage dead they were easy prey for Hawke and Bianca.

The battle ended quickly after that.

Moira went up to Fenris, the elf's arms and face looked burned, the blood magic having done worse than Hawke's fire ever could.

"Hold still," Moira ordered him.

"Wait!"

Keran pushed forward past Bethany and Varric and up towards Hawke and Fenris.

The former Templar gestured.

"Here," he said, "This might help."

Varric felt a sensation like a cool breeze wash over him, the air seemed to clear, and Fenris's skin no longer looked as if it was still burning.

He smiled to himself.

At least the Templar disciplines were good for something.

Moira cast a healing spell. She ran her hands above the elf's injuries, the burns began to fade, the bubbled flesh returned to normal.

Fenris sighed with relief.

Moira glared at him, pinning the elf with her eyes.

"That was extremely foolish," she growled.

"The mage was the **true** threat," Fenris shrugged, "Had he woken anymore of these, we would have been in trouble.

Varric looked down, the cavern widened behind where the battle had taken place, there were no less than twenty more skeletons scattered behind them. Had the blood mage managed to wake those…?

The dwarf shuddered.

Fenris had been right.

They **would** have been in trouble.

"He…Hello?"

They spun as one, weapons at the ready. A young man in dark robes stood before them, his hands raised in submission.

"I'm unarmed," he said, trying to stand as still as stone.

"My…my name…name is Alain. Please…I…I mean you no harm."

Moira lowered his staff. Though she did not take her eyes off him.

"Your friend didn't seem to share your opinion," she said motioning towards the dead mage.

Hawke's eyes narrowed.

"Besides, I've never looked fondly on blood magic."

The boy winced.

"I'm **no** blood mage. I…I want no part of this. It is all Decimus you see…he…he is the one that said we should use every tool available to us to survive. He said we would all be branded as blood mages anyway, but…but he was wrong! Ba…Blood magic is wrong! I…I just want to go back to the Circle."

Varric frowned.

The kid said all the right words, but that did not mean that he wasn't a part of all this.

"I take it that this Decimus guy is the one who taught your friend here to wake dead?"

The boy's head bobbed.

Everything he knew about Decimus came out in a rush. It was part explanation and part blubbery confession. Alain suspected that Decimus was behind the fire that consumed the Starkhaven Circle, that he had likely been a blood mage all this time, and had used the chaos to flee and gather followers. Alain claimed to have fled when Decimus first showed the others the powers of the blood.

"I…I wanted nothing to do with it, any of it," he explained, "I will go back to the Circle. I…I want no part of blood magic."

"How many more are back there?" Keran asked.

"There were fifteen of us originally. We lost some in flight, and you just killed Robart there."

Alain sighed.

"There are nine of us left, including Decimus."

"How many have turned to blood magic?" Fenris asked.

Alain shook his head.

"I…I cannot say for sure. Three or four at least, I don't know how much Grace knows about all this. She is Decimus' lover you see. As for the others, I…I can't say."

Moira frowned, no doubt considering what the boy was she had heard, trying to decide if she believed Alain or not, but in the end, she finally nodded.

"The Templar Thrask is waiting outside," she told him, "Surrender to him and you will come to no harm."

The boy nodded, fleeing as quickly as he could, likely more afraid of his former companions as he was the Templars.

Hawke turned to her companions.

"We are going to have to decide on how we are going to handle this."

"These people are desperate sister," Bethany said.

"Is that any excuse for blood magic?" Fenris demanded.

"Blood mages are dangerous," Keran added, "I don't deny that, but I would rather not slay an innocent if it could be avoided..."

Fenris shot him a look.

"After what you suffered, I'm surprised to hear you say that my friend."

Keran winced. Yet it was to Hawke that he looked. It was a look that spoke of both loyalty and acceptance.

"Not all mages are monsters," he said, "Our present company is proof of that.

Varric might have been wrong, the lighting wasn't that good in here, but to him it looked like Moira blushed a bit under the former Templar's warm gaze.

"Innocent or not Charity," Varric added, "It is safe to say that these mages are not likely to just turn themselves in, especially not after being tutored by a blood mage."

"You heard Alain," Bethany said, "This Decimus is the blood mage."

"Should we take the chance that he has converted the others to his cause?" Fenris added, "Would the Templars take that chance?"

Moira sighed.

It was a bad deal, no matter how you looked at it... The Templars would likely kill these mages just to be sure that they had not been corrupted.

Varric turned to Hawke.

In the end it was her call.

"I didn't need to be trained in the circle to know that blood magic is wrong," she exclaimed, "I won't harm any mage that surrenders, but I won't ask any of you to take any unnecessary chances. If you are about to be attacked; don't hesitate to defend yourselves, these people have made their choice, now they have to live with it."

Varric nodded grimly. Sunshine frowned but set nothing. Fenris glanced at Keran, who glanced back and nodded. Both of them seemed willing to back Hawke's play.

So we go in, find the mages, accept surrenders if offered, but don't be afraid to bloody your blade a bit.

It wasn't the best of options, but it was all they had, and who knew.

Maybe things would work out this time…

…for a change.

IOI

"This is it, a single robe?"

Varric tried to keep his winning smile in place, despite the man's slur. Ser Karras and his hunters had surrounded the cave entrance while they had been inside. A bulky man with bushy sideburns and cruel pitiless eyes, Karras looked like the type of man who enjoyed pulling wings off flies.

A great crony of Meredith Ser Thrask had called him, Varric could certainly see that. Everything they had heard about the Templars both from Anders and Keran hinted at the fact that the Knight-Commander rewarded her men for their lack of sympathy for their charges.

 _He might be_ _ **cruel,**_ _but is he_ _ **smart?**_

If he wasn't, no more people needed to die today.

"I left when the others started using blood magic Ser," Alain informed Karras, "I'm a loyal son of the Circle. I do not support blood magic in any form."

The senior Templar gave the boy a cold look; Alain fell silent under that icy gaze.

Varric did not blame him, those eyes seemed like they could flay a man.

It had not taken them long to find the apostates. They found the main chamber where Decimus and his fellow survivors were preparing to meet their enemy. One of the mages had tried to make him see reason, recognizing that those facing them were no Templars. The blood mage was hearing none of it. He began to wake more of the skeletons in the cave.

Hawke had responded with her own power, lashing out at the apostates. Keran had managed to smite Decimus before he had a chance to summon anything worse, and that is when Fenris had charged in, making sure the man would summon nothing else, making sure that he would never to anything like that again.

Seeing their leader and his few supporters fall had taken all the fight out of the remaining mages. They did not wish to return to the Circle, but at least they weren't trying to fight anymore.

Bethany had thought they deserved a second chance, and for her, Hawke had been willing to give it.

Whether they actually got one however, depended on how well Varric and the others could bullshit.

Varric was not overly worried about himself.

He specialized in getting people to believe bullshit.

He stood beside Keran and Fenris. Hawke and Bethany stayed back in the cave with that woman Grace and the few surviving mages. Hawke had promised to help them, provided they made themselves scare. Kirkwall had enough problems; they did not need to add the Starkhaven mages to the list.

"These citizens offered to help us Ser Karras," Thrask added, "If only the rest of Kirkwall was so supportive of our order. Do you not agree?"

The other Templar snorted at that, showing what his feelings on the worth of the aid of Kirkwall was.

"We conducted a search of the caverns," Varric continued, "We came across the apostates that Ser Thrask here warned us about."

"They had turned on each other by the time we arrived," Keran added, "Fighting over who should be leader now that they were free."

"It was a bit nasty down there," Varric continued, "The mages set the whole cavern aflame. The one who had been leading them fled like the coward he was. There's a small tunnel that leads out to the coast. He is one foot, so if you moved quickly on your horses, you should be able to catch him."

Karras' brow furrowed.

"The coast you say? Hm…"

Varric tried to keep his face as neutral as possible. If Karras did not believe them, Hawke and the others were ready, waiting inside. The Templars were likely expecting only frightened sheep hiding in that cave. They would find something far more than that.

He turned his eyes to Keran.

"After your expulsion, I would have thought that you were done with the order. Yet it seems you still remember your place and your responsibility."

The younger man gave Karras a sly smile.

"I may no longer wear the armor, but my heart and soul still belong to the Maker, and to the order that serves him."

Charity shrugged.

"I know where my loyalties lay."

Karras smirked, pleased with Keran's answer.

"Perhaps Cullen misjudged you boy," he said, "Perhaps one day you will take your place beside us once again."

"Nothing would please me more ser," Keran said with a bow.

The senior Templar chuckled as he mounted his horse.

"Thrask," he commanded, "See this mage back to the Gallows, the rest of you with me. We have apostates loose on the coast. It is time to teach them the error of that."

He turned briefly to Varric and the others; he threw a sack of coins from his saddle bag.

"For your trouble messere," he said, "With the orders gratitude."

He turned to his fellow hunters.

"To the coast," he shouted, "For the order and the Holy Andraste!"

The Templar hunters rode off down the path, whooping with excitement. Ser Thrask motioned for Alain to follow him, they would need to walk, but with Karras no longer on their heels they had the time. He assured Varric that he could see the boy back to the Gallows, even offered them a small pouch of his own, thanking them for their willingness to use creative methods. If he knew that the mages were still alive within the cave he did not show it. The young mage thanked them before telling them farewell. Varric nodded, not wishing to risk the others, not until all the Templars had left.

Once they were both gone, Varric let out the breath he did not realize that he had been holding. He glanced over at Fenris, the elf could have sunk them with a single word yet he had stayed silent.

Varric was grateful for that. He turned his attention to Keran the former Templar had gone above and beyond what he had expected.

"Where did that come from Charity?" he asked.

The former Templar shrugged.

"I was a member of the order long enough to know what an officer expects to hear," he said.

"Did you believe any of what you said to them?" Fenris inquired, his ears rising slightly with curiosity.

Keran shrugged.

"I did not lie," he said, "I do serve the Maker. Yet, I do not think him so cold that he would not allow someone a second chance. If Lady Hawke has taught me anything it is the value of second chances."

He smiled slightly.

"Lady Hawke could have left me to be tossed out on the street but she didn't. She did not abandon Fenris to face his former master alone, or Captain Isabela to face her enemies. She felt we were all deserving of a second chance."

"Who am I to deny such a thing to another?" he shrugged.

"It was at that moment that Hawke, Bethany and the rest of the apostates emerged. All of them blinked as they stepped into the sun.

Hawke smiled at her three companions.

"Well done Gentlemen," she said with a triumphant grin.

"Very well done indeed."

Varric opened up the two bags while Hawke and Bethany tended to the now "dead" mages. Their new leader grace was especially pleased that they had managed to fool the Templars. She even offered Hawke her staff, not a bad thing considering how many times Hawke had had to repair her old one.

Bethany whispered something to Grace before she left, perhaps offering some advice she had gleaned from her time working with Anders. He had not bothered to listen himself; he was too busy counting their coin.

When he looked up at Hawke he smiled.

"We have it," he informed her.

Her own smile widened.

They had done it; they finally had enough sovereigns for Bartrand.

They were finally ready.

The expedition could finally get underway.

Before the week was out they would be in the deep roads.

Wealth and fortune, and it was all theirs for the taking!

Their time had finally come.


	38. Before the Dark

**Chapter 38: Before the Dark**

"Until tomorrow then…partner."

Moira nodded and smiled as Bartrand slid off his stool and waddled out of the Hanged Man. They probably could have had this little meeting back in the Dwarven Merchant's guild, but Varric suggested that that would not be the best of ideas.

Bartrand had more than his share of enemies, and it was wiser not to give them an opportunity to take a shot at the two of them on the eve of their journey down into the deep roads.

Moira held her smile until the dwarf disappeared out into the Kirkwall night. As soon as he was out of eyeshot, she sighed heavily and leaned back in her chair.

She shook her head, glad to have made it through their meeting without saying or doing anything that could have jeopardized their mutual business.

Not that Bartrand Tethras had made that easy.

There was something about the man that she didn't like. Varric might have been a rogue, but he could be charming when he wanted to, and despite his rather sordid reputation, she got a sense that the younger Tethras brother cared what happened to people. Bartrand was…

Hawke shuddered.

There was no easy way of saying it.

Bartrand Tethras…made her skin crawl.

He had seemed charming enough, and acted grateful that Hawke had finally come through on her end. Not only did she have her share of the money, but she had brought her new Ostwick contacts in as well. They would have no trouble moving any amount of treasure they found on this venture, still though…still.

She pursed her lips.

She got the feeling that Bartrand wasn't pleased that she was along for the ride. He could not have gotten things rolling without her and her investment, but…

He seemed almost too sure of himself, so smug…Varric likely would have said that that was simply his brother being his brother. Hawke was not so sure.

She would keep a close watch on her new partner.

She had not spent the last few months working hard so that some arrogant little dwarf could steal her share of the profits. Varric would help; he was not the type to let a friend get cheated. For Bartrand this was just another job, a way to fill his family's coffers. She **needed** the profits from this venture to get the estate back, to shield herself and Bethany from the Templars, and to get mother out of Lowtown once and for all. Bartrand would not stand in the way of that…

…Nothing would.

She spotted Isabela making her way over from the bar. The pirate's lazy tread attracting more than its share of attention from the men at the tables around them. The pirate didn't seem to mind that. Men could look all they wanted, anything else had a price. How high that price was depended on her friend's mood.

She sauntered over to Hawke with a grin on her face, and placed a full tumbler in front of her. Hawke looked up, giving her friend a surprised look.

The pirate shrugged.

"Figure you could use this," she said gesturing to the tumbler, "Maker knows; I certainly would after dealing with that one."

Hawke shuddered again.

The pirate was not wrong on that point.

Moira nodded in gratitude and accepted the drink.

Isabela sat down beside her and downed her drink in a single gulp. Moira raised her own cup, but paused briefly

Everything was set for tomorrow, she realized.

Getting drunk tonight would likely not be the best of ideas.

"So we're all set then?" Isabela said motioning one of the serving girls over to fill her cup.

Hawke nodded.

"So it seems," she replied, "Great wealth and glory awaits our return to the surface."

She chuckled to herself.

"Now we just got to find something worthwhile down there."

"Any idea who you're going to be taking with you?"

Hawke worried her lower lip with her teeth. That was the big question wasn't it. She wanted the right people along to watch her back, she could take everyone she supposed, but Bartrand was not the type to let that fly. They already had a full complement of guards; any more might cut into the profits. Varric would be going of course, him being a part of the expedition since the beginning, other than that…

Moira was not sure.

"Is this _you_ volunteering?" she asked.

The pirate chuckled.

"Me? No thank you. I've heard tales about the deep roads, risking the dark and sickness of the place has no appeal to me."

"What about the treasure?" Hawke asked.

" _Possible_ treasure," Isabela reminded her, "None of it is a sure thing."

"There is no reward without risk," Hawke reminded her.

"True," The pirate admitted, "Show me the deck of a fat merchant's ship, and I will leap over without a thought. You _**know**_ the money is there. The deep roads…well…"

Her eyes narrowed.

"I'm happy to sit back and let the rest of you claim any rewards from that place."

Hawke nodded, it wasn't like she had no one along that could match Isabela's skills. Varric knew his way around a lock pick, and she could not blame her friend for not wanting to fight darkspawn in close quarters.

She still remembered how Ser Wesley had died; the cut had not even been that bad. Isabela's fighting style was all up close.

Hawke shuddered.

She did not know what she would do if one of her allies got tainted and needed to be put down.

Still she would need fighters to accompany her. Aveline's guard duties made her going along difficult. Anders, as a grey warden, had nothing to fear of the taint, his experience with the darkspawn and healing skills would come in really handy on this one. Merrill got lost on such a regular basis that Hawke was not sure if she should go along, she did not relish the idea of going to look for a single person who wandered off in the dark, she would do it, but…

Nope, better to be safe than sorry.

"Anders should go," she told the pirate, "He is no stranger to the deep roads, Fenris has said he is willing, he is not the type to shy away from the unknown. Keran could come in handy too; if we bump into a darkspawn emissary his Templar skills could save a life or two."

Isabela smirked.

"I can't imagine that Macha is going to be pleased to hear that...

Hawke frowned.

"No," she admitted, "Keran's sister is **not** pleased with all this. Her brother barely survived those blood mages, the thought of him facing the darkspawn is not something that she is comfortable with."

Moira sighed.

"He has been helping me with Hubert, getting the Bone Pit up and running again. I could say that I need him to stay here, keep an eye on that, but I don't know if he would accept."

She shook her head.

"He is dedicated to keeping me safe, got to give him that."

The pirate gave her a sly look.

"Is that **all** you would be willing to give him."

Something in her voice made Moira blush. She and Keran were friends, nothing more. She appreciated his loyalty, and Fenris seemed to be more comfortable having him around to watch his back. Still…

She found herself thinking back to their first meeting, how Keran had clung to her for dear life, the look in his eyes.

 _Beautiful._

She tried to push such thoughts away.

She had no time for such things.

Not now.

"What about Beth," Isabela asked, "Is she going along?"

"That is a very good question," Moira admitted, "Mother pulled me aside the other day, asked me if I would leave Beth out of this; begged me almost. We lost Carver to the darkspawn; mother would rather that I left Bethany out of harm's way."

"And what does little sister think of all this?" Isabela asked.

Hawke's brow furrowed.

"Probably should ask Anders about that," she said morosely, "She seems to listen to him more than me these days."

The pirate frowned slightly.

"What makes you say that?"

Moira's eyes narrowed as she regarded the other woman.

"I'm not blind Bella," she said, "You think that I don't know what Anders and Beth have been doing down in his clinic?"

The pirate said nothing, which was more confirmation than anything else she could have said.

"You know?" Isabela asked.

Moira nodded.

"For how long?"

"Long enough," the mage said, "Beth is my sister and we live in extremely close quarters, you don't think I would notice certain…things."

She sighed.

She knew her sister, knew when she was keeping things to herself, Mother had been distracted with everything going on, and worrying about what was going to happen next, Moira had not had that luxury. She had seen certain, bruises on Bethany's neck and shoulders, love bites and the markings that young men left on their paramours. Moira might not have had much experience with that herself, but she had seen enough from the young ladies in Lowtown to add up what was going on.

Isabela gave her an arched look.

"So you are fine with all this?" she asked.

"No," Hawke admitted, "I'm **not** fine. Anders is…well…I'm not sure what he is truth be told. An abomination? Maybe, but I do know what will happen if I confront him on this. We're going to need him in deep roads, I don't doubt it, and it would only turn into a fight if I forbade Bethany his company. She doesn't look at me with the same respect that she had for Carver and Father."

Moira snorted.

"I might as well be talking to a wall for all the good it would do."

Hawke took a deep pull of the tumbler that Isabela had sat in front of her, no sooner had the liquor touched her tongue that it nearly came spraying back out from between her lips.

The mage's eyes widened as she coughed and gagged.

Isabela snorted with amusement.

Teary eyed and gagging Moira glared at her.

"What the **fuck** is this?!"

The pirate queen smirked.

"Rum," she said, "At least that is what it said on the bottle."

Isabela shook her head.

"I've had better," she shrugged.

Hawke coughed again, resisting the urge to get up and run to the privy. She did push what was left into the tumbler away from her.

"Didn't realize you were going to try and poison me," she complained.

"I would say that it will put hair on your chest," Isabela said with an amused smile, "But you don't need that do you?"

She grinned widely.

"Let us just say that it will put hair where you need it to."

Moira glared at her, which just made the other woman laugh again.

Hawke shook her head.

 _Very funny Bella,_ she thought.

 _Very fucking funny._

Isabela downed her second tumbler with barely a reaction. She turned back to the mage.

"There would be one advantage to leaving Beth behind," she said, "It would give her a chance to clear her head. Having Anders gone for a few weeks might make her reconsider a few things."

Moira considered that.

Bella did have a point.

A little time might do her sister some good. Anders wouldn't be able to whisper in her ear or do…anything else to her for a while, maybe…

She nodded.

It could work.

Hawke sighed.

"We'll give it a try. We will see if the break makes any difference. If it doesn't than I won't interfere. I may not like it, but I won't deny Bethany what she wants," she said, "She is a woman grown, and it is not her big sister's place to step between her and…and…whatever it is Anders is to her. We…we never had the chance to truly be free back in Lothering. To seek out…company."

Moira shook her head.

"I won't deny Beth that small piece of happiness."

Isabela leaned back in her chair, her expression turned thoughtful.

"What about you?" she asked.

"Me?"

"Yeah, when are you going to seek out a little company?"

Hawke's brow furrowed.

"I'm head of the family now," she answered.

"I don't have that luxury anymore."

Isabela shrugged.

"Fair enough Hawke," she said.

Moira frowned.

Actually it wasn't fair; it wasn't fair at all…

…but that was the way it was.

Hawke nodded.

"So that is it then," she exclaimed, "Varric, Fenris, Anders, Keran and me, we will go into the deep roads and carry out anything of value that isn't nailed down."

Moira grinned, despite what they had to face she was pleased.

It was good to have a plan.

She looked at the pirate.

"Can you think of anything else I need before starting out?"

Isabela smirked.

"You could go and get yourself laid Hawke."

Moira glared at her.

"Isabela," she warned.

"My treat," the pirate offered, "We can pop up to the Blooming Rose and…"

"That did not work out so well for Keran," she reminded her friend.

Isabela gave her a lecherous look.

"And we are back to Keran again."

She raised her eyes suggestively.

"You sure there is nothing going on there Hawke?"

Moira rolled her eyes.

Maker, she thought with a frown.

Give me strength.

IOI

" _No."_

 _Varric paused._

" _Yeah Seeker," he said._

" _This cannot be right," the woman said, "The Champion and her apostate sister came to Kirkwall to spread subversion against the chantry._

 _The dwarf's brow furrowed._

" _Things are rarely that simple Seeker."_

" _And the Champion's companions," Cassandra continued, "Aveline, Isabela, that warden Anders."_

 _Varric spat at the mention of former wardens name._

" _Don't remind me," He said, "I introduced them remember."_

 _Cassandra glared at him._

" _I suppose you will tell me it was all coincidence?"_

" _I didn't…"_

" _That the Champion had dealings with the Qunari, entered into an alliance with a known raider, a blood mage, a rebel warden and all for what? Coin?"_

 _Varric fidgeted._

" _It wasn't that simple, but…"_

" _Simple? Need I remind you dwarf how many lives have been lost? How many lives will be lost?"_

 _Varric said nothing._

 _He was not in the mood to be interrupted again. Plus he was no fool._

 _He knew what was going on beyond the city's walls."_

 _He simply refused to believe that it was all Moira's fault._

 _The Seeker stalked before him like a caged lioness._

" _Tell me about what happened on this expedition," she said, "Leave nothing out."_

 _Varric sighed._

" _It did not go quite as we had planned," he admitted._

 _The Seeker snorted._

" _That I do not doubt."_

 _Varric shook his head._

 _The Seeker did not know the half of it, he thought._

 _But she would, he had promised to tell her everything._

 _He would do just that._


	39. In the Deep

**Chapter 39: In the Deep**

"This is why I left the wardens," Anders complained bitterly.

"I **hate** the blighted Deep Roads."

Moira said nothing in response, there was nothing to say. She did not agree with Anders on many things, his interest in her sister chief among them, but in this, their thoughts were one. They had been down here almost two weeks and she had come to the same conclusion.

She hated the blighted deep roads.

The journey had started out much as they had expected, they had left Kirkwall and following the direction of Anders' maps they had found the entrance to the deep roads. It had not taken their excavators long to unseal the entrance, the door that the wardens had installed was still in use today, Anders' former warden brothers still used this entrance when they needed to do some ranging in the deep. Torches and glow crystals were brought out as the expedition began their long journey down into the dark. Moira was surprised by how large the entrance was, and how wide the tunnel leading down had been dug. Varric reminded her that once upon a time, these roads had been the lifeblood of the old Dwarven Empire; trade between Tevinter and the dwarves had been an institution before the darkspawn found their first Archdemon and began the slow death of the dwarven kingdoms.

The thought made Hawke shudder.

Despite the years of neglect, the tunnels seemed in good condition. Few men could deny that the dwarves built things to last. Most of the damage that the deep roads had sustained over the centuries had been caused be the darkspawn tunneling in search of the old gods and for space to build new nests for their broods.

As far as the dwarves were concerns the darkspawn were a disease, and disease they wished they could be cured of.

The entrance showed little sign of the darkspawn taint, not surprising considering they were still very close to the surface, the spawn preferred to remain in the darkest of places, emerging only to raid and drag off prisoners, women especially.

When Moira asked Anders about that, the former warden had shuddered.

"Trust me," he warned her.

"There are somethings that you are better off not knowing."

When they paused to rest, Anders would sit by the fire and speak of his warden adventures. Early in the darkspawn civil war, he and his fellows had liberated the dwarven thaig of Kal Hirol. The awakened darkspawn had turned the thaigs old defenses against not only the wardens been rival darkspawn as well. He did not go too deeply into details involving that war, only saying that two powerful darkspawn had found a way to free their followers from the Archdemon's call. The result had been nothing but chaos and slaughter, but what else was new, Anders had said with a dark chuckle.

Chaos and slaughter was what the darkspawn was all about.

Some of the dwarves laughed at his tale. They did not believe that the darkspawn could be freed from their masters' chains.

Anders had only shrugged.

"If we are lucky the awakened darkspawn are all dead," he said, "I cringe at the thought of what the monsters could do if they found a way to free the rest of their kind."

Moira for her part spoke little when it came to the affair of wardens and darkspawn. She was only here to help her family, and she needed the help of those she travelled with. Keran and Fenris stayed close to her as they pushed forward. Both the elf and the former Templar were sworn to her protection. It was from her share that they would both be getting their payment, though part of her wondered if payment was the only reason that the two were here.

Fenris still did not trust her, or at the very least remained leery of her. Keran was…well…

Keran was Keran.

Moira was grateful for his presence. Having him at her back made her feel brave as they descended deeper and deeper into the darkness. Often she heard him offering prayers by the light of a single candle. He prayed for their success and for the safety of those they left behind.

Moira was not the most devoted of people, but she was grateful for her ally's prayers. After everything they had faced in the last year…they could use a little grace on their side. She even found herself offering up a prayer or to, asking that the Maker watch over Mother and Bethany...

…Especially over Bethany.

This would be the longest time that they were parted. They been as thick as thieves since they were children or at least they had been, before Anders had got his hooks into her. Hawke had feared that Anders would insist that they bring Bethany along, and that she would take up that call when her older sister informed her of her decision to leave her behind. She had thought of going to the former warden first; make sure that he would support her choice. If he cared about Bethany like he claimed to, then he would not wish to see her walk into danger.

When she finally did inform her sister of her choice she had done so in both the presence of her mother and Anders. Bethany seemed eager, even going so far of saying that she would rather fight darkspawn then dodge the attention of Templars. Leandra Hawke had asked her to accept her sister's decision; it was bad enough that Moira had to go into the deep roads.

As was expected, Bethany looked to Anders. No doubt she expect her lover to come to her aid, surprisingly, Anders had done something Moira would not have thought possible.

He agreed totally with her.

"There are many risks in that place Bethany," he had said taking her hands in his, "Not just the darkspawn, but the deep roads themselves. People have been known to be infected by the very air that flows through those thrice damned tunnels."

Anders shook his head.

"I would not wish to put you in such danger."

The tenderness in his voice surprised Moira. He glanced at mother who nodded back. The exchange surprised her. She had been under the impression that mother knew nothing about Bethany and Anders…relationship. Perhaps that had been foolish on her part. She had put one and one together after all, why should she be surprised that her mother had done the same?

Hawke cursed herself in that moment, she had been wrestling with her feelings on the matter in silence, if mother had known all along; she could have sought out her counsel, maybe even found some peace in her sister's choice of paramours.

It would have been nice to have had someone to share the burden with. She had been spending so much time trying to protect mother from the world that they now found themselves in that she had forgotten that mother had survived in the same world far longer than she had.

The thought might have been amusing, had she not felt so dismayed by it.

In the end, Beth had agreed to stay home. Moira should have felt elated, but something still bothered her. Her sister had been becoming more and more stubborn since their arrival in Kirkwall, or perhaps since she had begun sharing her bed with Anders. Moira had caught her many times giving her a displeased look over one choice or another. Yet when she had suggested that Beth stay home, her sister had agreed, she had complied with barely an argument. perhaps she did not wish to make a scene in front of her lover, but still… still…

…Later after they had left the city, she found herself wondering if she had done what Bethany and Anders had expected her to do, and that on some level wanted her to leave Beth at home.

She could not put her finger on why such a thought bothered her, but it did.

Why would Bethany wish to be left behind?

What was so important that she needed to stay in the city?

If Anders knew, he was not saying, he had not denied that he would miss having Beth fighting at their side, but it was for the best.

She was safer back home.

Something in the way he said the last part set off more than a few warning bells, he almost sounded like he did not expect to see Bethany again. Perhaps it had something to do with going back into the deep roads. Perhaps Anders thought they might not return.

She might have pressed him further on the subject, but by that time the expedition started to turn ugly. The deeper they got, the more dangerous the journey became.

Soon all of Hawke's attention was directed at the job in hand, reaching their destination, and…staying alive.

The journey to this thaig they sought was only supposed to take two weeks, but three times along the way the group had been forced to backtrack. Cave-ins had sealed to of the possible routes that Bartrand had drawn up, and by the time they had found their way around those they had been forced to deal with the other dangers that made the deep roads so perilous.

There had been a few encounters with the darkspawn, but those had been minor skirmishes. The spawn that attacked them were usually in groups of four or three, and never in sufficient numbers to be much of a problem for the warriors that travelled with them. The creatures were not the real problem, the deep roads themselves were

They had lost two of their excavators trying to find their way around the second cave-in, the two dwarves had stumbled into a nest of creatures that looked like some kind of white worm with legs, legs and mouths full of very sharp teeth. Deepstalkers one of their dwarven guards had called them, by the time Hawke and company had arrived, there had been nothing left of the two men but two piles of ragged bones.

Three days later they had lost four more people, two guards and a pair of their scouts. An old dwarven defense system had been tripped releasing a spray of toxic gas from several statues that marked the entrance to an old trading post. Hawke and Anders had been able to use their magic to push the cloud back, but it was too late for the four men who had been standing in the heart of the trap when it was set off. Bartrand had cursed their stupidity, and the fact that they had needed to wait almost two more days until Varric and the remaining scouts could find a safe way through what had turned out to be a whole gauntlet of traps. The gauntlet had probably been set to kill darkspawn, alas; it killed dwarves too just as easily.

By the time they came upon a third cave-in, their supplies for the journey down were starting to run low. If they did not reach their destination soon, it was likely their food rations could run out before they finished searching the thaig, not to mention for the trip back home. Varric and Bartrand poured over the deep roads maps, trying to find a shortcut that would get them back on track.

To make matters worse, the son of one those accompanying them had gone missing. The boy's father, a dwarven trader name Bodahn had begged Moira for help. Feddic was something of a minor celebrity to the dwarves of Kirkwall, apparently he had spent the Blight travelling with the Hero of Ferelden, keeping the famous hero both supplied and armed during his many adventures.

Moira was not sure how of the man's story was to be believed, but the dwarves certainly took Bodahn seriously, yet none would risk a finger to go searching for his boy in the dark. Too many men had been lost that way, the darkspawn were not above setting up traps.

Bartrand was certainly not going to risk his neck searching for the boy that was for certain, to him, all that mattered was the Thaig, and according to him, they were so close.

When Bartrand and Varric finally found a solution, it fell to Moira Hawke to try to find a way around. To be honest she welcomed the chance to get away from Bartrand and his grumbling, his berating of their guards and other allies did not help when they were so deep underground. The darkspawn had given them little trouble so far, but who was to say how long that would last.

Just because the spawn had not shown themselves in force did not mean that they were not there. They had passed through several abandoned campsites, sites that showed evidence of being made by darkspawn, and then there was the taint. The farther down they went, the black rot that seemed to breed wherever the darkspawn pass by grew both thicker and more numerous.

They needed to find a way around, and quickly.

She promised Bodahn that she would look for his son while finding their way around the cave in, she did not have much hope, but she had no desire to make the man feel any worse than he already did.

If the boy was alive she would send him back, but their first priority was finding a way down to the thaig. That was where the prize was after all.

That is what mattered in the end.

Moira stood before one of the many side passages near the cave-in, it was one of several dug out by the darkspawn, but did not look like it had been used in a long time.

If the passage was a dead end, they would need to turn back and try another, but that was the nature of the beast down here, wasn't it?

Anders closed his eyes and tilted his head slightly, he said he was seeing if there were any darkspawn up ahead, claiming that, as a warden, he could sense the creatures' presence.

They did not move until he said that the way seemed clear. It was not easy to detect the monsters down here, but he was sure that, even if there were any up ahead, they were not numerous enough to handle such a large and well-armed party.

Moira sighed.

She hoped that he was right.

She murmured a few words; the small crystal atop her staff began to glow, not enough to give them away but just enough for them to be able to watch their step.

As one Moira, Fenris, Keran, Anders and Varric entered the abandoned tunnel. She could not say what waited for them in the shadows, but it did not matter.

They needed to find their way through.

It was too late to turn back now. The only way out was forward, down into the dark…

…into the deep.


	40. The Lost Thaig

**Chapter 40: The Lost Thaig**

" _What happened when you reached your destination?"_

 _The Seeker's question caught Varric off guard. He had just been about to tell Cassandra about the dragon nest they had encountered by looking for a way around Bartrand's cave in._

" _Getting a bit ahead of ourselves aren't we Seeker," he said with a soft smile._

 _The woman glared at him._

" _You're not telling this story for entertainment's sake Varric," She reminded him, "I have no desire to hear how you and Hawke blundered into this threat or that."_

" _Blundered? Seeker, you wound me," he said sounding hurt, "I'll have you know that we_ _ **knew**_ _we were going into danger, and though it was well…_ _ **dangerous**_ _we came out stronger because of it, and even won a treasure or two."_

 _He raised his feet showing off his boots._

" _Dragon skin," he said proudly, "We stumbled into a dragon's nest and had to fight our way out. The hatchlings were a pain, but it was the mother that caused the real problem. She may have only been the size of a horse, but she could fight in close quarters. Hawke barely made it out alive from that fight."_

 _The Seeker scoffed at his words, but in this he was not lying. He remembered the aftermath of that fight the dead dragoness had fallen on Hawke as she had tried to run away, at first, they had been afraid that the beast had crushed her._

 _He still remembered the panic on Keran's face, how the boy had run to Hawke, shouting her name, perhaps even praying that she was alright._

 _They had pulled Moira out a few minutes later, dirty, singed, and stinking of dragon blood, but at least she was alive._

 _Blondie had cursed her for a fool for getting so close to the beast, yet she had needed to. It had been her force magic that had held the dragon at bay long enough for Fenris and Keran to deal the killing blow._

 _Had it been a risk? Sure. Had it paid off? Yes, it had._

 _Before proceeding on they claimed what they could from the dragon's nest, not to mention helping themselves to a few trophy's from killing the beast. It had been the elf that suggested that Varric take some scales and skin back with them. Once properly prepared, such prizes were worth a fair amount of coin._

 _Never one to miss an opportunity, Varric had complied. The scales had sold well to one of the Hightown armorers, and the skin had made one of the finest pairs of boots he had ever owned._

 _He chuckled to himself._

 _It was one of the few good things to come out of their expedition._

 _He was about to say as much when he realized that the Seeker was glaring at him again._

 _Varric sighed heavily._

" _Okay, Seeker," he said submissively, "I'll move on."_

 _That quieted the warrior woman, and so, he continued his tale._

" _With all the back tracking that we had to do, plus the few battles we had been forced to engage in, it took us longer that we wished to reach the lost thaig. By that point we were probably in one of the oldest sections of the deep roads. We had crossed several warning signs as he we made our way down, signs that had been posted during the days of the old empire, warning dwarves about the dangers of travelling in such old sections of the roads."_

 _He shook his head._

" _Why they did not simply seal off those old sections, I don't really know."_

 _Cassandra snorted and crossed her arms._

" _You found what you were looking for down there, of course."_

 _Varric sighed._

" _We found_ something _," he admitted._

" _Though it was not quite what we had expected."_

IOI

"This thaig doesn't make any sense," Bartrand grumbled to himself.

Varric chuckled as his eyes moved over the sights of their destination. Though clearly very old, this place seemed more intact than some of the dwarven places they had passed on their journey.

 _You are not wrong brother_ ; he thought to himself, he had seen his share of dwarven ruins on this journey. Places forgotten or overrun by the darkspawn long ago, this place…it…it had a different feel to it. It had a different feel entirely.

He might not have had what the dwarves called "stone sense" like others of his kind, but that did not mean that he did not feel the weirdness of this thaig. For starters it did not look as worn down as most of the places they had passed. The stone here still had its sharp edges, the angles of the structures seemed, strange somehow. He could see what he thought were small veins of lyrium running through the ceiling.

If that _is_ lyrium he thought, why had no one come back here to mine it? Why seal it off and forget about it? Dwarves were not the type to simply forget about profit.

What would change that? Had no one known about the lyrium here, or had they chosen to forget about it for some reason?

He could not say for sure.

Hawke and the rest of their companions moved up alongside of him. Fenris and Keran had stayed close to Moira since their little encounter with the she-dragon a few days ago. Both elf and man seemed intent on making sure that no more surprises came out of nowhere and harmed their leader.

Fenris was a trained bodyguard, he knew enough to stay close to his lead in dangerous situations. Keran…well…Charity likely had his own motivations to staying close to Hawke. Whatever those reasons were, he was welcome to them, as long as he did his part and kept Hawke safe.

That was all that mattered to Varric.

Blondie had grown quieter and quieter the deeper they pushed into the deep roads. What was going through his mind was anyone's guess. Was he remembering the bad shit he had seen during his time with the wardens? Was he missing Lady Sunshine? Varric could not say for sure.

Blondie certainly wasn't offering up any clue. He was normally quite chatty.

His quiet was strange.

Hawke sniffed the air.

At least it is clean down here," she said blandly, "No sign of darkspawn."

Varric nodded.

They had seen no sign of the darkspawn for days, the walls showed no sign of the taint, which was a first for this journey. It was strange to say the least.

 _Did the spawn know something that they didn't? Why would they leave an old thaig completely untouched?_

He did not know.

He flied what else he thought was weird about this place.

"It barely looks dwarven," he said turning to Bartrand.

"Don't you agree brother?"

Bartrand snorted with barely a nod, which was the closest thing Varric would get to an agreement with his elder sibling.

"I don't understand," Bartrand grumbled.

"What's wrong?" Moira asked.

Before Varric could answer, his brother responded.

"We're well below the deep roads, this place had to have been built before the first Blight," he said, "I…I expected this place to be just another lost Thaig, something old, but this…"

The older dwarf shook his head.

"What is _this_? Nothing in this Thaig makes sense."

"What makes you say that?" Hawke asked.

"Dwarves have been steeped in tradition for thousands of years human, mired in it," he said, "We haven't changed in millennia. This place though…"

Bartrand shook his head.

"Where are the statues of paragons, the forges, and the estates? The buildings are all wrong, they are shaped…differently."

Moira nodded as she looked around.

"It certainly isn't the dwarven quarter back in Kirkwall," she said.

"Perhaps these were pilgrims," Keran added.

Bartrand glared at him.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

The former Templar shrugged.

"Maybe they left the empire to seek a new way of doing things," he said, "Maybe they had no choice but to leave. Perhaps the rest of the Dwarven Empire did not give them a choice."

Bartrand sneered at that.

"Maybe," he said, "these dwarves might have been different…unique."

His expression turned sly.

"I just hope they kept their valuables close."

"If this place is truly _that_ unique," Hawke said grinning, "Perhaps whatever we find here will be even more valuable."

"Perhaps," Bartrand said smiling at her, "I do like the way you think human."

Bartrand began splitting their expedition up into teams. No one was to leave the main chamber, and all were to stay in earshot. They were to check all the dwellings and other structures, and above all bring back anything of value they could find. They were also to keep an eye out for clean water or ways to restore their food supplies. The longer trip down meant they might need to resupply before they made their return.

Varric went with Moira and the rest of their small party. Fenris and Keran flanked them, keeping an eye out for trouble. Anders hung back in case his magic was needed, while Varric kept his eyes on the ground before them, looking for traps.

These dwarves might have been unique, but they had still been dwarves.

Varric had never known any dwarf who was not protective of his possessions.

Hawke had her eye set on one of the more elaborate structures in the main chamber, its entrance at the top of a long staircase. Varric could not even guess its purpose. It could have been a noble estate, perhaps an archive, like the shaperate in Orzammar, or maybe even a temple.

He almost laughed at that.

Dwarves did not build temples. They kept places of stone clear to receive prayers, but never did they build structures of worship like humans.

If they had…then the dwarves who lived here had been something different indeed.

They climbed the stair with Varric taking the lead. They paused before the door way, as he gave it one final look over, making sure that there were no traps. The stair led to another large chamber with yet another stairway, atop that was a dais, and what appeared to be some kind of alter.

Varric made his way forward, once again sniffing for traps when they reached the top of the dais their group spread out, no one saw any kind of a threat, but took no chances. Varric went up to the alter; he made sure it was not rigged in any way, dwarven traps rarely fell apart on their own. Yet all their eyes were drawn to what was sitting on top of it.

Moira frowned at the sight of…it.

"Ugly little thing, isn't it?" she said dryly.

Varric snorted with amusement.

He could not help but agree.

It was a statue of some kind, an idol perhaps, in many ways it reminded the dwarf of person, on their knees. The face that decorated the idol appeared to be wailing, the features twisted with pain, in the light of the glow crystals that illuminated the room the thing appeared to be glowing, but that might have just been a trick of the light.

He first thought it might have been cut from a ruby, yet the way the thing drew in light, and how that light swirled on its surface suggested something more than mere stone.

Moira frowned down at it.

"Is that…lyrium?" she inquired.

Keran blinked as he stared at it.

"I've never heard of red lyrium before," the former Templar mused, "Back in the gallows the only lyrium we ever saw was blue, or white after it was processed."

It was only then that Anders moved closer, the mage had kept his distance, his expression far away. Now he focused intently on the idol before them.

He frowned deeply.

"It is definitely magic," he informed them, "And not the good kind."

Varric saw Moira shudder, not that he blamed her.

There was something about the face carved into the idol, that screaming face, something that was...

"Found something?"

They turned to find Bartrand climbing the stairs he stopped at the top of the dais.

Varric grinned.

"Look here Bartrand," He exclaimed, "An idol we think, made out of pure lyrium, probably worth a fortune!"

Varric picked up the object and tossed it to his brother, no sooner had it reached the elder dwarf's hands then it seemed to glow and shimmer, the idol bathed Bartrand in blood-colored light.

He regarded the idol with a look of pure avarice, and whistled slightly.

"You may be right," he murmured turning the statue over in his hands.

"An excellent find."

"We're going to look around some more," Varric informed him, if there was one such treasure here, perhaps their might be more.

Bartrand turned away with barely a word, he might have mumbled something, but by that point Varric was more interested in finding more treasure.

After everything it had taken to get here, he intended to find everything of value that wasn't nailed down.

As the group began its search, Varric heard Hawke and Keran talking. He wasn't trying to eavesdrop, but…

"Do you think these dwarves worshipped that thing?" she asked.

"Don't know," Keran admitted, "If they did I think that we should be glad that no one is left down here."

The boy sighed.

"Someone who would worship something like that, I doubt they would be the friendly sort, they…

A loud bang behind them drew all their attention.

"The door," Hawke gasped rushing down the stairs.

By the time they arrived the entry way was sealed shut. Moira tried to force it open, but it wouldn't budge. Some kind of dwarven locking mechanism had locked into place, Varric thought, sealing the door from the outside.

Probably some kind of security trap he had missed, he thought sourly, fortunately they were not alone.

Bartrand and the rest of the team were out there, surely they could figure out how to disarm the trap.

"Bartrand," Varric called out, hoping the door was not too thick for him to hear.

"The door shut behind you."

He waited for his brother to bark some reply, cursing their luck and telling them that he would bring the excavators. The response they got was quite different.

From the other side of the door, he heard his elder brother laughing.

"You always were the smart one Varric," he heard Bartrand say.

"Too bad you weren't smart enough."

A chill ran down Varric's spine.

Bartrand…Barty…they were brothers for Andraste's sake! He could not mean to…

"You…you have to be joking," he shouted, "You…you are going to screw over you own brother over some lousy idol!"

"It is not just the idol," Bartrand replied, "The location of this Thaig alone is worth a fortune. _**My**_ fortune. I never intended to split it three ways."

Varric realized then that he had been had. After all their hard work, after Hawke had put up half the funds for the expedition, and had found them new buyers…

Bartrand had never intended to have any partners in this endeavor. Now that he knew this place was real he could name his price to any other treasure hunter or representatives from the dwarven shaperate.

The fact that he would turn on a partner was one thing, Varric knew his brother was ruthless, but to turn on his own blood.

"You can't just leave us down here," Hawke called out.

"Sure I can," Bartrand answered, "The fact that I lost partners on this deal will only make the value go up."

"Barty," Varric roared, "You can't do this!"

"See you brother," he heard him say back, "Who knows, in a hundred years, maybe the junk you all are carrying might we worth something too."

They heard footsteps receding, even through the thick stone door.

"Bartrand get back here!" Varric shouted.

"Bartrand!"

" _ **BARTRAND!"**_


	41. Risk and Reward

**Chapter 41: Risk and Reward**

" _So, he betrayed you?"_

 _Varric snorted, he had to admit, the Seeker_ _ **did**_ _have a gift for understatement._

 _Betrayal was one way of putting it._

" _Yeah, he betrayed us."_

 _The Seeker crossed her arms._

" _And you did not expect it?"_

 _He sighed._

" _Business is one thing, Seeker; blood is another, especially for a dwarf. I knew Bartrand would double cross a partner if there was profit in it, but…_

 _He shook his head._

" _Family is different; to a dwarf it is the one absolute that defines you, more than honor or profit. What Barty did…"_

 _He sighed again._

" _You don't double cross family. Even the coldest bastard in the Merchant's guild knows that."_

' _Hmph," the Seeker responded._

 _Varric was not sure if that was meant to be an insult or simply an acknowledgement. Whatever it was, he decided to ignore it._

" _Hawke tried to blast the door open, but it was a waste of time. Say what you want about my people. They know how to build a sturdy door. We tried calling for help, trying to get the attention of someone else from the expedition, but no so such luck._

" _If we were going to find our way out, we would have to do it ourselves."_

" _I can't imagine that Hawke was pleased."_

" _She wasn't," he agreed, "But I was even worse. I believe the first words out of my mouth were when I find that son of a bitch, I was going to kill him."_

 _Varric winced._

" _That and offering up a quick apology to our late mother. She might not have been much of a mother, but she was the only one I had. Calling her a bitch was disrespectful."_

 _The Seeker nodded, and began to pace before him._

" _Clearly you found a way out."_

" _Clearly, whatever the place was where the idol was being kept it was clearly no vault, it only took us a few minutes of searching before we found another door. Unfortunately, it led deeper into the Thaig, not back to the entrance."_

 _He shrugged._

" _We had nowhere to go but forward."_

" _Did you encounter anything else unusual during your escape?"_

 _Varric chuckled._

" _You could say that. Shades, probably drawn to the place by the lyrium menaced us at every turn, rogue golems, lost in the dark for so long that they had lost their minds, and attacked anyone they saw on sight, and that wasn't even the worst of it. You ever hear of The Rock Wraiths, Seeker?"_

 _Cassandra shook her head._

" _They're a dwarven legend, stone that had grown jealous of the dwarven people, and sought revenge, something imaginary that dwarven mother's use to scare their children. Honor your parents, eat all your vegetables, be polite and dutiful, otherwise the Rock Wraiths will get you, they will come out of the stone and drag you off and you will never be seen again."_

 _Varric leaned back in his chair._

" _Turns out, they were not so imaginary after all. We encountered a small army of the bastards as we tried to find our way back to the entrance."_

 _The Seeker's brow furrowed._

" _Describe these creatures," she said._

" _Charity thought them demons drawn to the lyrium rich rock of the thaig. They possessed the very stone and used it to form bodies of a sort. A particularly powerful one actually was able to speak, a hunger demon, or so Blondie thought. It referred to its fellow wraiths as the profane, and it offered us its aid in escaping the Thaig."_

 _The Seeker glared at him._

" _A deal you took?"_

" _We weren't_ _ **that**_ _desperate Seeker. We had had enough encounters with demons in the past few months not to trust anything one offered us."_

 _Varric pursed his lips, his brow furrowed in thought._

" _Having Keran and Fenris at our side made a lot of difference down there. They not only kept us safe, but kept us honest. Fenris' markings hurt the wraiths far more than any blade could alone, and Charity's Templar abilities came in handy more than once in disrupting this attack or that."_

" _How long were you down in the Thaig?"_

" _Not really sure," he said with a shrug. "Time is not easy to keep track of down in the deeps. Plus, the bloody thaig was a maze, corridors turning back on each other. What looked like what might be a way out led us back to where we had just come from, and during the whole endeavor the profane continued to harass us."_

 _He shook his head._

" _Our one saving grace was that the darkspawn had not been through this thaig. We came across an old fountain giving us fresh water, and between the dried food in our packs and the stray nug we caught, we were not in any danger of starving._

 _Varric chuckled._

" _It was fortunate that we had been in such a hurry to start hunting treasure. Had we left our packs with the rest of the expedition, we might have not fared so well. Bartrand sprung his trap too early, and as a result we had a chance."_

" _How did you find your way out?"_

 _He frowned._

" _It was about the third or fourth day, maybe. I finally recognized some runes on one of the doors. A symbol for supplies I think. We decided to search the room see what we could find."_

" _Let me guess," The Seeker said coolly, "Things did not go as planned."_

 _He laughed again._

" _It rarely did Seeker," he said with a nod._

" _It rarely did."_

IOI

"HAWKE! LOOK OUT!"

Keran slammed into as the massive profane exploded again, flinging razor sharp shards of its own body in all directions.

The former Templar's armor protected him from the worst of the shrapnel, though from the dents it was clear that they were running out of time.

Their weapons and armor could only take so much, and both were quickly reaching their limits.

The giant rock wraith reformed itself again; the creature's rocky form filled the chamber. It was fifteen or twenty feet tall easily.

The monster's strange cry rang out again, even as the rock that made up is body shifted as it charged for another attack.

Keran rose, pulling Hawke to her feet.

"Thanks," she said, though she doubted her savior could hear her, not over the din that the massive rock wraith was making.

Fenris darted in again and again, attacking the creature's joints with his great sword, that and the power of his markings. To the lesser monsters, the Tevinter elf's attacks had been devastating, each lyrium pulse leaving them more than disoriented enough to deliver the killing blow.

The big one, he only flinched and tried to crush the elf with one of his massive limbs. The glowing eyes in its skull-like head flared with rage.

Anders attacked with ice spells, trying to weaken their enemy and shatter the boulders that made up its massive frame.

Again the rock-wraith cried out, and more of its smaller brethren emerged from the walls. Hawke and Keran engaged the small ones while Varric and the others kept the big one busy.

We can't last much longer, Moira thought; it is only a matter of time until we lose somebody. We're all getting tired and…

She dodged one of the smaller monster's mace-like fists. She sent a wave of force magic into it flinging it against the wall so hard that it shattered. She whirled around, ready to meet the next threat, the small ones made fighting their big brother difficult, if one managed to hit one of her allies with an energy blast in the back, they would not be able to defend themselves if the big one brought down his weapon from the front.

I'm not losing anyone today, Hawke thought to herself.

Not one person.

She saw Fenris cut down the last of the smaller monsters. His armored back was smoking from one of their strikes. He staggered back as the giant profane moved towards him.

Varric sent a bolt into the creature's eyes, it was not enough to kill it, but it did make the big bastard back off.

Keran rushed to Fenris, pulling him to the back. While Moira and Anders assault their larger enemy with both ice and force magic.

Again the creature bellowed, its stone body shifting around as it prepared for a new attack.

"The creature's core is unshielded," She heard Anders shout over the din.

"We can end this now!"

Keran, who must have heard the former warden's words, whirled around; he saw the same thing that Anders had the glowing core in the center of the rock-wraith's body.

The former Templar did not hesitate. Before Hawke even had a chance to warn him off, he charged, sword in hand.

The former Templar leapt into the air, bringing his blade around.

One of Varric's bolts caught the creature's arm, a small explosion, weakened the giant's arm, preventing it from bringing its mace like fist around to strike Keran.

Moira blasted the creature again and again.

It cried out as Keran's blade found its mark.

Good Kirkwall steel pierced the monster's heart. There was a brief flash, and Keran was flung back.

The Giant wailed as its magical body fell apart, a wail that was suddenly cut short.

The monster collapsed its boulder- like frame crashing to the ground like a cave-in.

Moira shielded herself, while Anders reached out to shield their allies.

Silence filled the massive chamber. No new rock-wraith's emerged.

The battle was over, but…at what cost?

She called out to Keran, but got no answer. She dashed between the remains of the giant, seeking their ally.

Varric coughed and brushed dust and grime off his long coat, as Fenris limped over to where Hawke searched for the former Templar.

Anders leaned against his staff, clearly spent from the battle, his expression revealing nothing when it came to the former Templars.

If he was concerned for his ally, he did not show it.

Moira shifted the rocks where Keran had fallen; she called out his name, telling him to hold on.

She did her best to push back any panic she was feeling.

She had vowed to see them all safely back to Kirkwall, she had promised Macha…

She would not let her brother die if she could help it.

She would not.

She had failed mother and Aveline during the Blight. She had failed Carver and Ser Wesley…

She would not fail again.

She shifted a large rock, and with it, heard a weak groan. She had to resist the urge to use force magic to blast the rest away, slowly, she and Fenris uncovered the former Templar recruit.

He coughed and looked around with a glazed look in his blue eyes.

"Keran?" Moira called out to him.

He coughed again.

"Did…did I get it?" he inquired.

Moira made a sound between a laugh and a groan, as she helped him to his feet. Once she was sure that he was alright, she shoved him angrily, her blue eyes flashing with rage.

"What were you thinking?!"

"I wasn't," he admitted.

"You could have been killed," she snarled, "You think that I want to go back to Macha and tell her you died? You think that I look forward to that?"

He winced and shook his head.

"I had to do something," he said, "You…we were in danger."

He shook his head, rock dust puffed into the air.

"I had to do something," he repeated.

Moira huffed angrily, and stormed off, to tend to Fenris, while Anders emerged from the shadows.

"I think she is glad you made it," he informed Keran.

Hawke almost whirled around and punched the former warden, and probably would have hit Keran for good measure as well.

She did not ask for him to save her.

She did not want his death on her conscience.

She was so angry that she almost did not hear Varric calling her name.

She turned and made her way through the debris that had once been the giant rock-wraith.

The expression on Varric's face was not one he she had expected to see.

The dwarf was actually smiling, for the first time since Bartrand had trapped them down here, he was actually grinning.

"I think I know why the dwarves that lived here left Tiny behind, he said gesturing to the slain giant.

Moira was such a huff she still did not get it.

"What are you talking about?"

Varric chuckled and gestured for her to look.

Moira did, and her eyes widened, her jaw almost hit the floor.

Varric smirked.

"Remember how I said I thought this room might be the vault for this place, well…"

He pointed to a section of the room they had not seen during the fight.

Moira had to suppress and almost hysterical giggle.

The chamber was filled with treasure. Gold cups, vases studded with gems, and no less than six stone chests filled with shiny gold coins.

There were also gilded statues of varying sizes. Two or three might have been copies of the idol they had found in the temple room. A large stone cabinet near the back was packed with what looked like precious stones, and several necklaces of diamond, ruby, and sapphire.

Moira's hands shook as she reached out for a handful of the coins, she scooped them up, and they fell through her fingers, with a merry tinkling sound.

She blinked, wondering if she was dreaming, after so much darkness after so much fear and fighting.

Had they truly found what they were looking for?

The rest of their small party made their way over.

"Maker's breath," Keran gasped.

Anders snorted with amusement.

"I take it that this is what we came here to find?" he said dryly.

"Enough wealth to even make a Magister envious," Fenris murmured.

Varric chuckled.

"Let Bartrand keep his bloody idol," he said with disdain.

"I'll take this over that ugly thing any day."

Moira nodded dumbly. She was not really seeing the treasure, only what having it meant.

This would be enough to get them out of Lowtown, more than enough.

They would be able to reclaim the estate.

They would be able to reclaim everything!

Keran limped over to a small golden table, and picked up the one thing that did not seem to belong in the treasure trove…

…An old iron key.

"Hawke look at this?"

She turned as he pointed behind them

She followed where he was pointing, behind a faded tapestry, was a large stone door, with a very familiar looking key hole built into it.

It looked much like the door that Bartrand had sealed them in behind days ago; the markings were certainly the same.

She smiled to herself.

Perhaps they were not trapped anymore, maybe that door led back to the main chamber of the Thaig.

Maybe it would not be so hard to find their way back to the exit.

She gave Keran a grateful smile; the boy blushed scarlet in the Thaig's low light.

Perhaps they had found a way out, and with the treasure in hand.

They would find a way back to the surface, back to Kirkwall, and then…out of Lowtown.

The thought made her giddy.

She would be safe, Bethany would be safe. Mother would be safe.

Thanks to her…

…they would all be safe.

She almost laughed.

The worst was finally over.


	42. Too Moira

**Chapter 42: Too Moira**

Embers rose from the small fire as Moira fed it. The gentle heat of the flames did little to suppress a shudder as a cool evening breeze tussled her short black hair.

Yet, she did not mind, after months of nothing to smell but taint and darkness, she welcomed the coming evening. As the stars came out it was all she could do to stifle a child-like giggle from escaping her lips.

They had finally made it out of the deep roads.

The worst was over.

They had emerged just at sundown. The great doors that had sealed the deep roads so long ago slid back as the wheels released the weights sealing them off.

Moira had almost sobbed as they stepped out into the fading light. The warriors wasted no time, they fanned out; securing the small clearing that had once served merchants waiting to enter the ancient dwarven empire. The remanence of stone stalls still remained after so many centuries. Dwarves built to last no one doubted that, but not even their works could stand up to time unaided.

The entrance was sealed behind them, making sure that nothing could follow them back to the surface.

No one rested, not until the entrance was sealed, only then did they allow themselves to take a breath. It was rare that darkspawn raiders struck at the surface, but that did not mean that it did not happen.

No one wanted to responsible for letting even one of those monsters loose.

All around her their little camp was busy, food being prepared and consumed, armor and weapons being oiled and mended. Armored warriors mingled with those who had escaped the lost Thaig with her and her companions. Bartrand had proved himself an even bigger ass than they had all realized. Fleeing the thaig with only the people he needed to return to the surface, everyone else he had abandoned, leaving them all with neither a map nor hope.

Hawke shook her head.

She had never been one to seek vengeance, preferring only to focus on her own survival and that of her family. Yet, the elder Tethras actions after their arrival at the Thaig had now filled her with a black desire to see the selfish little bastard pay for what he had done.

Her eyes narrowed dangerously.

If they returned to Kirkwall and Bartrand was there, there would be…a reckoning to be sure.

It would not be a pleasant experience for her former partner.

"I have assigned men to keep an eye on the perimeter. We should be safe tonight."

Moira glanced up at the speaker. He was a tough old warrior with a tanned wind-burned face. It was a hard face, as tough and unyielding as the silverite plate he wore. His mustache and short black hair was only lightly peppered with gray, yet he seemed far older than what he likely was.

It was the eyes, she thought.

The man has old eyes.

"That is good to hear, Stroud," she said nodding.

We would not want to survive the deep roads to just be knifed in the back by some bandit."

Stroud snorted in amusement, which was likely the only reaction she would get from her dry comment. In their last week travelling together, she could not remember hearing the warden laugh, not once.

She was determined to work on that. Humor had become a shield for her since she had first arrived in the city of chains. If she could use it to get someone's guard down, she would.

She did not trust people who did not laugh, not that the man's life had given him much to laugh about.

A grey warden's life was hard, and it made whoever wore their mantle harder.

Yet, the wardens had helped them with little thought of reward, had even offered them aid when their wagon had had issues three days ago. They had shown little interest in the treasure that Hawke and her companions had gathered.

Perhaps their mission mattered more to them than gold, or perhaps, just perhaps…

….the wardens were better people than most realized.

Moira continued to stare into the flames. Stroud sat across from her saying nothing. The only sound being the crackle of the fire and the sounds of their camp as they settled in for the night.

Good sounds, Moira thought, peaceful sounds.

It was something they could all use after the last two months.

"I don't suppose you know where we are," she asked the wardens, "Not far from Kirkwall, I hope."

The warden sighed.

"The coast is that way," he said pointing, "Kirkwall is about a three days journey from here. There were exits that opened closer to your city, but none large enough to allow your wagons access to the surface."

"So, you showed us both the safest and most convenient way out?" Moira asked.

The warden nodded.

She smiled slightly.

"You have my gratitude."

"Gratitude is not necessary," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand, "It is our duty to protect those against the Blight."

"True," Moira said, "But you still have my thanks. You could have just left us where you found us."

Stroud looked down into the fire.

"We could have," he admitted.

"But I would not."

The journey back to the surface had taken longer than the journey down. Bartrand's flight with the bulk of their guards had forced Hawke and her companions to focus more on security than speed. Fenris and Keran had done what they could to arm the few able-bodied people that remained of their expedition. Anders and Varric had been forced to act as scouts as they made their plodding way back to the surface.

It was slow going, slow and dangerous.

Twice they had encountered darkspawn, fights that had cost them the lives of three more of their party. A week after leaving the Thaig two of their excavators had snatched a bag of coins and jewels and took off on their own. Fenris had wanted to pursue, but Moira had overruled him.

What were the chances of those men making it out on their own? They had killed themselves.

They just did not know it yet.

The group had been slowed when they discovered that Bartrand had made sure that no one would be following him. The route past one of the cave ins they had used was closed off. Despair might have claimed the group, but Anders had saved them. It had turned out that he had not given Bartrand all of the maps he had taken before his flight from the wardens. Hawke would have been furious normally, but given their situation.

She could have almost kissed the rebel warden.

This map showed the location of several warden patrol routes. It wasn't the safest of paths, but it was than simply staying here and waiting for the deep roads to claim them. Having no alternative everyone in the group agreed to take the risk.

What had followed had been an equally slow slog through the ruins and darkness. Anders' warden senses had helped them avoid several dangers, but more than a few had to be simply fought through with fire and steel.

Moira lost all track of time; there was no day or night down here. The excitement she had felt when they found the treasure vault back in the Thaig faded as the long dark hours turned into days. Then one day as they were rolling down another dark tunnel, the group caught sight of torches in the distance. Hawke and the others circled around their wagon, ready to meet whatever threat the deep roads were throwing at them now.

It turned out to be unnecessary. The torches belonged to Stroud and his brothers.

They had found one of the warden patrols.

They were safe.

IOI

Stroud sighed and tilted his head. He looked almost pained.

Moira's brow furrowed, she wondered what…

"You should not skulk Anders," the warden said, "Besides, it is wasted on me. I would know you were there if it was complete darkness."

Anders emerged from behind the treasure wagon, the apostate looked slightly miffed.

"I was not skulking," he said, "I was listening."

Stroud snorted again.

"Trying to determine if I meant to drag you back to the order?" the warden shook his head.

"The wardens are not the circle, Anders. I do not need to drag you back. The taint will call to you, drawing you back no mattered how far you run."

Anders sneered.

"I don't know," he said dryly.

"I can run pretty far."

Moira gave him cold look.

She could not believe Anders, he had been around her long enough to know how she looked after those she called friend and ally. He was one of her people. Even had the wardens asked to take him, she would have refused.

Although, she could not deny that she was tempted. Sending Anders back to the wardens would get him out of Kirkwall, and away from Bethany. Of course, if she did do that, and Anders escaped and returned to Kirkwall…?

No, she was not that type of person, and besides, she would not hurt her little sister, no matter how much it might have helped her in the long run.

No…Anders had nothing to fear, not from her.

"I don't betray people that help me Anders," she reminded him, "No matter how I feel about them personally."

Anders brow furrowed.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Moira pinned him with a hard gaze.

"Bethany," she said flatly, "Do I need to say more?"

Anders expression changed.

Clearly, she did not.

Stroud glanced between the two of them, but neither elaborated. In the end the warden simply shrugged, to which Hawke was grateful.

The Anders thing was a personal matter.

She would deal with it when they got back to Kirkwall.

She gave Anders a knowing look. I if he ever thought she did not know about him and her little sister; that look likely dispelled that belief.

Beth's happiness is what matters here, she thought.

That was all that mattered, in the long run.

Suddenly feeling very closed in she rose from her spot by the fire and headed for the edge of their camp. Things had suddenly got too awkward for her tastes.

She needed some air.

She slid past the surviving members of the expedition, only partially hearing their thanks and praises for seeing them safely back to the surface…

Safe, and rich.

Varric sat by his own little fire, playing cards with Fenris. Normally the elf avoided any game with their dwarven companion. Varric tended to be very lucky in whatever card game they engaged, too lucky perhaps. Still it was not like they were short of coin right now; either man's share of the treasure would be enough to keep them well fed for a year or more.

She was not worried about Fenris, he knew when to fold. She did not think he would lose his full share to Varric, not that the dwarf would do so. Despite his reputation, Varric Tethras was a good man.

Not that she would say so to anyone.

Varric enjoyed be notorious in Kirkwall far too much.

She would not take that away from him.

The wardens barely acknowledged her. So focused were they on their own duties. She got the feeling that most thought her foolish or crazy for risking so much going that deep into the deep roads.

Maybe she was, after everything that had happened, the lives lost…

...could anyone deny that she had been foolish? A foolishness born of desperation perhaps, but it was still foolish.

They could have all been killed. They could…

"Hawke?"

She paused, she had been so lost in thought she had not realized that she had come to the edge of the camp. She blinked and turned around.

Keran stood before her. The former Templar looked more like a scarecrow than a warrior. His armor removed, clad in only a dirty sweat-stained shirt, and patched up breeches... Not that she looked much better, her garb was just as dirty and patched together after the last two months.

A kingdom for a bath, she thought to herself, hot water with scented oils and soapy bubbles.

Maker knew; she could certainly use one.

Still despite his grungy appearance, Moira felt a wave of affection wash over her. Keran could have chosen to remain in Kirkwall, but he hadn't. He had stayed at her side, fought and bled beside her. Now they were returning victorious, with enough wealth to see to the safety of all their loved ones.

Could she have asked for anything more of her companions?

She suddenly felt very self-conscious, wishing she had washed up or at the very least changed into something clean.

Keran had that effect on her more and more lately.

She shifted slightly, not wanting to meet those blue eyes. Her hands crossed before her waist.

If Keran noticed she was uncomfortable he did not show it.

"You should not be out here alone," he said, "We just made it out of the deeps, I would hate to lose you to some outlaw."

She laughed nervously.

"I appreciate your concern," she said, "But it is not like I'm defenseless."

She held up her hand, letting blue fire dance across her fingers.

"I can take care of myself."

"I know," he said, "That does not mean that I don't worry."

Now she did look up, something in his voice…

He looked away, refusing to meet her gaze.

Her brow furrowed.

Was he…blushing?

"I…I will go back to the others," He said turning to leave.

"Wait," she called out.

He paused.

"Yes," he said shyly.

She shook her head.

This is stupid she thought.

What in Andraste's name is wrong with me?

"Tell the others we are about three days from home," she said, "The wardens have agreed to accompany us as far as the city."

Keran smiled.

"That is great news, Hawke," he said.

She smiled, warmed by his smile.

"I'm sure Macha will be glad to see you safe."

The boy laughed.

"If she does not kill me for being gone too long," he said.

Hawke nodded, she had not thought about that. What would mother and Bethany say?

She would need to come up with something good to say what she showed them the fruits of their labors.

"True," Moira agreed, "Your share of the expedition should go a long way to softening that blow."

"Hopefully," he said, "He glanced at the wagon, its contents hidden beneath a tarp.

"What are you going to do with your share, Hawke?"

"Get us away from Uncle Gamlen," she said, "Mother and Beth, they deserve more than some hovel in Lowtown. They deserve the life my mother left when she married my father."

She grinned.

"House Amell is coming back," she said, "I hope Hightown is ready."

The former Templar grinned.

"For you," they better be."

She gave him a sly look.

"What does that supposed to mean?"

"Only that you are not going to happy being some stuffy noble," he shrugged, "You're too…too…"

The boy paused.

"I'm too what?"

He laughed nervously.

"Too…too Moira."

She smirked.

"You know, I think that is the first time you used my first name. I'm too Moira huh? Is that a good thing?"

He looked away again.

"It is a great thing," he said softly.

She beamed.

He blushed again.

"I must get back," he said, "Goodnight, Moira, I…I mean…Hawke."

"Goodnight Keran."

He turned without another word.

She looked up as the starry sky considering what he had said.

She imagined herself taking up the estate. What would she do once she got into Hightown? Once she would have done nothing. She would have kept her head down and used her money to shield herself from the Templars. Now…now…

She pursed her lips.

Now, she was not sure.

She was too…Moira.

She did not quite know what that meant…

… _but_ , she thought with a smile.

 _I intend to find out._


	43. Homecoming

**Chapter 43: Homecoming**

" _So, the champion made her return to Kirkwall?"_

 _Varric sighed heavily._

" _Yes," he hissed, his throat feeling far drier than it should have been. He was used to talking, telling tales, but he was also use to having a pint at his side, or at the very least a glass of water._

 _Of course, that was not why he had sounded so…harsh. What should have been a happy memory for him was tainted by what they had found upon their return._

 _Back then, all he had wanted was to find Bartrand, he had sincerely hoped that his dear brother would have been stupid enough to return to Kirkwall, alas that had not occurred._

 _The thought made him pause._

 _What would he have done if Bartrand had returned? How did one pay a family member back for such a heinous betrayal as leaving you to die?_

 _Hawke had tried her best to convince him to let it go. Let Bartrand have his trinket, the treasure they had found in the deep roads was enough to let them all live comfortably for a very long time._

" _Living well is the best revenge Varric, she had told him._

" _One of Bianca's bolts to the groin would not be far behind that Hawke," he had replied with a dark chuckle._

 _She had glared at him then._

" _You don't mean that."_

 _He had thought about that._

 _Did he mean it? He could not really say. The only way to truly find out was to have Bartrand in his and Bianca's sights._

 _Only then, would he have been able to say if he meant what he said or not._

 _Thinking back to that conversation, thinking about the look on Hawke's face, both then, and after their return._

 _He sighed._

 _It should have been a glorious homecoming, instead it had been something else, but wasn't that way it always seemed to go in the city of chains._

 _No one escaped without scars._

 _He turned back to the Seeker, she had her arms crossed, waiting for him to continue._

" _I imagine the champion's mother was pleased to see her daughter again."_

 _Varric sighed heavily_

" _It was a bittersweet reunion Seeker," he said, "And it was almost something much worse."_

 _The woman's eyes narrowed._

" _What happened?" she asked._

 _Varric closed his eyes._

 _He was surprised that Cassandra Pentaghast didn't know. He figured she would have read the Templar files on what had happened._

" _Things happened while we were away," he said trying to keep any pain out of his voice._

" _What kind of things?"_

 _The painful kind," he said trying not to sound angry. Trying not to remember the way he had found Hawke that night, the look on her face after she had left Gamlen's hovel._

 _He pursed his lips._

" _There are times Seeker, that you can get what you want, and still lose."_

 _He shook his head._

" _That is what the champion faced when she came home._

 _That…is why I went to her. She had gotten what she wanted and still lost. I had to make sure that she did not lose anything else."_

IOI

Varric hurried down the streets of Lowtown, not really sure what he was going to find when he reached his destination.

He had only been back in the Hanged Man for about ten minutes when he had gotten word of what had happened. At the time he had cursed himself for not checking in with his agents before he reached the city. He could have sent word to his contacts, had them find out what he needed to hear before they arrived, but he hadn't he had been so focused on Bartrand, and what he was going to do to him, that he had forgotten one of his first cardinal rules.

Knowledge was power, and surprises were rarely a good thing.

Hawke had had a surprise waiting for her when she had walked through Gamlen's door.

It had **not** been pleasant.

He had _just_ come from Gamlen's, had hurried there the moment he had gotten the word. He had arrived to find both Aveline and Blondie there. The healer was currently tending to Lady Leandra. While Gamlen sat in the corner saying nothing, his expression unreadable.

Varric had glared at the man.

 _Why had he not done something,_ he thought, _why was he just sitting there doing nothing, except watching?_

Leandra lay in one of the hovel's bunks, moaning weakly. Anders continued to check her eyes and her heart, he was speaking quietly to the woman, but it was unlikely that she could hear him.

Aveline was stalking around the small living room like a caged jungle cat. Hawke's Mabari looked up every time she paced too close to it, the young dog whimpered, perhaps afraid that the warrior woman would step on him.

As for Aveline, the look on her face, she looked like she wanted to kill something.

Varric was grateful in that moment that the guard captain considered him a friend, or at the least an acquaintance.

She would not take her anger out on him; at least, he did not think so.

She looked like she wanted to hit something, Varric kept his distance, just in case.

Better safe than sorry.

Finally the guard captain turned to face him, the look on her face made him wish he was anywhere else, but where else could he go?

Hawke needed him.

He wanted to help, if he could.

"Varric," she said her anger suddenly turning into sadness. He was shocked at the transformation, how quick it had been.

"There…there was nothing I could do," she said, "I…there…there was nothing."

Not sure how to reply he had simply nodded.

What they had returned to was not something you could hit with a sword. If only it was…

Yet…there was nothing they could do.

The Templars had come.

They had taken Sunshine.

IOI

Aveline told him everything she knew, which alas was not much. Bethany had changed since they had left for the deep roads. Both Aveline and Isabela had tried to draw her out of her shell, but everything they had done had been for naught.

Sunshine had begun to obsess about the Templars, sure that they were watching her. Isabela, who had taken a job escorting some cargo for her old friend Martin had offered to take the girl with her on the job, get her out of the city for a while.

Bethany had declined, saying that she wanted to stay close to Anders' clinic, in case there was some emergency with the refugees.

Aveline had tried to convince her otherwise, yet the younger Hawke would not be swayed, then one night, she had not come home from the clinic. Aveline had grabbed Merrill and went to look for her but they had found nothing. Anders' clinic had been locked up, and the lantern outside had been dark.

The guard captain had spent the night looking for her, but all for naught.

The next morning, there had been a report on her desk, one of her guards had observed a young mage surrendering herself to one of the Templar patrols as it had been leaving the Gallows.

From the description, there was no doubt in Aveline's mind who the young mage had been.

"There was nothing I could do," she repeated to Varric, "nothing."

He had nodded,

How could she have done something, she had not been there and even if she had…

…What could she have done against a full patrol of Templars?

Bethany had been in the Gallows almost two weeks when word had reached Kirkwall of their imminent return. Knight-Commander Cullen, in a show compassion Varric would not have attributed to him, had brought Sunshine back to Gamlen's so that she could see her sister, explain what had happened.

Varric shook his head. He could only imagine what had been going through Hawke's mind. Had she been afraid that Bethany had given her up too? Had she wanted to kill Cullen and try to escape with her family?

He could not imagine how hard it had been to just stand there and watch as the Templars took her little sister away. To listen to her mother sob at the loss of yet another of her children.

Lady Leandra had collapsed to the floor sobbing. Hawke had sent Gamlen to get Anders; her uncle had left without a word of complaint. Aveline had arrived a few moments later. No doubt hoping to help Hawke deal with what had occurred.

After Anders had arrived, Hawke had left without another word, she had not even told anyone about the success of their mission. Not that Varric was surprised.

Coin was the last thing on Hawke's mind at that moment.

He had sent word to both Fenris and Keran, not that there was much that they could do.

Varric had feared in that moment that Moira would do something foolish, attack the Templars, maybe even give herself up. It sounded crazy, but in Hawke's current state.

Who knew what she might do?

He returned to _the Hanged Man_ hoping that Hawke would be there, perhaps getting drunk. Alas that was not the case; the place was all but empty with the exception of the normal customers that frequented the place at that time of day.

His brow had furrowed.

 _Where did you go Hawke?_ he had thought.

 _Where would you go?_

Aveline had her guards out looking, or so she had said. The Elf and Charity showed up a half hour after he had returned. They offered to go out looking too. Varric dismissed the idea. Hawke had spent enough time in the company of smugglers that she knew where to hide.

If she did not want to be found, she likely would not be.

Yet, he did not want to give up. There had to be something he could do.

How hard was it to find a single Fereldan in Kirkwall? Pretty hard perhaps, but then again she was not like the other dog-lord refugees, she…

His eyes widened. A hint of a smile played across his lips.

He had an idea; it was a crazy idea, but…

He left without another word; he needed to go back to Gamlen's.

There was something he needed, well two things…

Then he would be able to find Hawke.

At least…he hoped he would.

IOI

The spot that Moira had chosen was not easy to find.

She had first discovered it during her year indenture to Athenril, a small terrace on the roof of the many warehouses on the docks of Lowtown. She had used it once to spy on some coterie men for Athenril, and after she had reported back had used it as a piece of high ground when they dealt with the thieves.

She had been so proud of herself that day; it had been one of the first instances when she realized that she wasn't the terrified farm girl anymore. Even Bethany had been impressed, she…

Bethany.

A shudder ran down Hawke's spine.

She still remembered the look on her little sister's face, the way she looked dressed in circle robes. Mother's tears as Ser Cullen led her daughter away. Moira almost lashed out at the man, he had foolishly brought only two other knights with him, far too few if she and Bethany worked together, they…

She shook her head.

They could have done it; they could have gotten away, but…but…

Moira frowned.

They would not have gotten far.

By now the Templars had Bethany's phylactery, where ever they ran to the Templars would find them. Bethany knew that of course, which was likely why she had not even tried to fight back, even with her sister at her side.

Why, Moira thought to herself, why did you do it Beth?

We were in the clear, the treasure I found would have kept us safe for the rest of our lives.

Moira tried to blink back the hot tears that were threatening to fall,

She would not cry. She did not have luxury of crying. She…she…

She took a shuddering breath.

What exactly was her life worth now?

It was a terrifying question, a question she had no answer to. Everything she had done in the last year had been to protect her family to raise them out of the gutter, and put them on a better path now…now.

She whimpered.

Father was gone.

Carver was gone.

Bethany was gone.

What did she have to live for now?

"Hawke?"

The sound of a familiar voice brought her out of her malaise. That and the excited barking of a Mabari war hound.

She glanced over the edge of the terrace, down on the street stood Varric and her Mabari pup.

The dog barked excitedly, wagging its stubby tail so hard its hind quarters vibrated.

Varric stood at her side, a familiar looking scarf in his hand.

One of her scarfs she realized, and in that moment she knew how her friend had found her.

She looked down at her Mabari, even young, the dog was showing just what valuable tool it would one day be, still she was not happy that it had found her.

"Traitor," she murmured under her breath.

The dog barked, simply happy to see his mistress.

Varric looked up at her, concern etched over his rugged face.

I can't imagine why she thought, if anything happened to me, he could take a bigger share of the profits of our venture, wasn't that what a good dwarven businessman would do?

As soon as she thought that she regretted it.

Varric would never do that to her, he was not his brother.

He was too good a man for that.

"You okay Hawke," she heard him call out.

Moira almost laughed at that.

Okay? How could she possibly be okay, after everything that had happened today?

"Leave me be, Varric," she called down, "I need to be alone."

"Maybe," he said with a shrug, "Unfortunately that is not an option, the others are worried about you. Daisy, Blondie, Charity, they are all afraid you might do something drastic."

Moira frowned down at him.

"Drastic or foolish," she asked.

The dwarf shrugged.

"Take your pick," he said.

Hawke snorted and leapt down from her hiding place. Once she might have been afraid of hurting herself, but now, what did it matter.

Everything was lost.

She gave her friend and part a cool look. Her dog continued to look at her, panting and flashing a huge Mabari smile.

Once that would have amused her, that reaction, but not anymore.

Moira sighed and turned around; from here they could see the Gallows across the bay. Torchlight turned the white stone walls of the old fortress into a flickering mountain of orange, yellow and red.

Somewhere in there, she thought, my sister is settling in with the rest of the mages. I'm out here, and she is now a prisoner.

Hawke shuddered.

It wasn't right.

She sensed as Varric came up alongside her. The dwarf said nothing. He merely stood there waiting for her to respond.

For once, she had nothing to say, what was left to say.

Bethany was gone.

"It was all for nothing," she told him, "Everything we did in the last year, it was all for nothing."

Varric coughed and gave her a cool look.

"I thought you did everything for your family?" he asked.

"I did, but Bethany…"

"Sunshine is in the Circle, yeah I know, but you still have your mum to think about Hawke. What would she do if you got hurt doing something stupid?"

Moira blinked, part of her figured her mother would be better off without her, especially after how spectacularly she had failed to protect the twins. Carver wad dead and Bethany would spend the rest of her life in the Gallows.

What did it matter what Moira did now. She would be lucky if her mother did not disown her after what had happened to Bethany.

Still…she still had mother. Mother needed her now, perhaps more than ever. Even if she hated her for what had happened, did she not owe it to the twins to at least try and keep their mother safe?

Mother still blamed her for Carver, she knew that, if she blamed her for Bethany too, that…that would be almost too much to bear.

Moira curled her hands into angry fists, magic flickered in her eyes. She almost wished one of the many toughs down here on the docks would attack her right now.

She could use the release.

"What am I going to do Varric," she asked her friend.

"What am I going to do?"

The dwarf sighed.

"Live your life," he suggested, "You are still a very rich woman Hawke, or will be once we start selling off our treasures."

"Then what?" she said.

"Whatever you want, gold makes a lot of rules, and changes more than a few others. Who knows what you might do with a bit of wealth and a powerful family name behind you?"

She considered that.

He was not wrong. The Amell name could do much, and with enough wealth behind it, perhaps even more...

It could not get Bethany out, she knew that, but it could shield her, give her room to maneuver, come up with something new.

Her blue eyes narrowed, aqua-colored fire flashed within.

She did not have to be just another refugee any more, nor did she have to be just another Lowtown thug.

She could do things in this city, change things.

It is what Carver would have done, Bethany too, if she had had the chance.

She continued to glare at the Gallows, the implacable fortress squatting across the bay, a warning to any and all mages of what could happen.

Those mages did not have money though, or a powerful name and allies to shield them.

I can't do anything for my sister right now, but soon, once I've got myself established.

Hawke the Lowtown thug was nothing. Moira of House Amell could be so much more.

If she was brave enough to be.

"I can do it," she murmured.

"Huh?"

She looked down at Varric, he regarded her curiously.

"You say something Hawke?"

"Let's go to the Hanged Man," she said, "I could use a drink."

"Sounds good to me, partner," Varric said grinning. Her Mabari barked in agreement as well.

She smiled slightly.

"After a few drinks, we can begin," she said.

"Begin what?"

She gave him a sly look.

"The future Varric," she said smirking.

My future she thought the future of House Amell.

She had waited long enough.

Now…it was time to begin.

 _._


	44. A New Moira

**Chapter 44: A New Moira**

Moira Hawke had never liked the nobility.

It was not that she had ever been jealous, no, she could care less about the baubles they wore, or the fine horses they rode. Moira had been perfectly happy on the small farm with her family, happy to live her simple life and not get noticed.

Getting noticed could be dangerous, especially by a noble. As soon as some pampered noble heard even a whisper of an apostate near them, they would run screaming to the nearest Templar, demanding that the warrior take action and remove the evil mage from their presence, to keep them from spoiling their perfect world.

It had happened once to the Hawke family, she had been very young at the time, five or six, but that did not mean that she did not remember. The twins had still been mere babes, at the time, but that had not stopped father from taking both them and his eldest child out of their beds in the middle of the night and fleeing just an hour or so ahead of the Templar patrol sent to look for him. Finding nothing, the Templars had made sure that the Hawke family would have nothing to return to. Moira remembered the tears in her mother's eyes as their small home had become an inferno. The Templars had burned everything the Hawkes had owned, and all because some noble had not wanted to pay for the services that Malcolm Hawke had offered. Moira remembered that too, her mother's fear as her father told her that he feared he had made a powerful enemy, an enemy that would see their world torn asunder before he would part with a single coin, no matter the fact that father had given him Leal service, no matter the fact that the man had owed the mage a debt. She had been just a child then, but still…she remembered.

Perhaps that was when her almost paralyzing fear of the Templars had started. Perhaps that was why she had always hid and let Carver deal with any Templars that came to their small farm.

She still remembered the fire that had been their home, the grim acceptance on her father's face, and the tears in her mother's eyes as she did her best to keep the twin babes in her arms quiet.

The twins had been too young to remember that night, but not Moira…she remembered everything. Their home had burned not because of the Templars alone, but because some noble git had not wanted to pay his debt, they had been forced to leave because of a handful of coins.

It had been cruel…distasteful!

No Moira had had plenty of reasons to dislike the nobility, and now in one of Thedas' great ironies…

She now found herself among their number.

Irony indeed.

IOI

A tired sigh escaped her lips as she slipped out of a towel and into the bathtub filled with hot steamy water. The tub was large enough to fit two if needed, though Moira would never have been daring enough to ask someone else to share it with her.

The apostate sank up to her nose letting the heat sink into her bones, the weariness of the night before faded as the heat and the scented oils relaxed her sore muscles.

The water rippled with each breath. She had a few hours before she had to meet up with Mother and Bann Pieter. She intended to make the most of it by doing absolutely nothing. She was determined to not leave this tub until the water cooled and her fingers and toes were both pink and pruny.

If she had not been underwater, she might have laughed.

Wealth did have its advantages.

Three months had passed since her return from the deep roads. In that time her life had changed beyond anything she could have imagined. Doors that had been closed to Moira the apostate, Moira the Lowtown thug, now swung wide for Moira of the new money…

…Moira: The scion of House Amell.

It had begun slowly at first. She had stayed close to mother as she regained her strength. The shock of Bethany's arrest still haunted them both, yet they somehow managed to keep from slipping into despair. Moira became her mother's anchor, just as mother had become hers. Even Uncle Gamlen had started being nicer to her, though her new found wealth might have something to do with that, she could not say for sure.

The wealth, she thought, the treasure that they had found in the deep roads.

That was the key that changed everything.

The first step had been insuring its safety. Varric and Aveline had helped with that. House Tethras had contacts with dwarven bankers in Kirkwall who could be trusted to secure such a large amount of gold, and Aveline had guardsmen who were honest and loyal enough to prevent any of those bankers and their staff from skimming off bits of the treasure for themselves.

Attempts were made to steal it of course. One dwarven house had produced documents that suggested that the lost thaig that they had raided had been property of their family, and that any gold taken from the site belonged to them. Varric had disproved that quickly enough when he, Isabela and Merrill had tracked down the forger that had crafted those documents; the dwarven house that hired the man complained, even sent assassins to kill the forger, Varric and Hawke, but that had not saved their case. Varric had used his share wisely.

He had already bribed the right people, bribes high enough that even the most jaded member of the merchants guild sided in Hawke's favor, that and a few well-placed threats from Bann Pieter Trevelyan made sure that the old dwarven families accepted the fact that the gold belonged to Moira Hawke, and House Amell.

And so…Moira of the new money had been born.

Bann Pieter arrived less than a week after Hawke's return, both out of worry for mother and eagerness to see what Moira had for him to sell. Having lost his eldest son and heir to the circle, Pieter had been more than willing to help see mother through those first troubling weeks.

The first thing he had done was help the two of them get out of Lowtown. The Bann had not only agreed to pay off the hirelings that had helped get the treasure back to the surface, but he even fronted them some money so that the two women could set themselves up in a suite in the Hightown Inn.

"You are both people of import now," he reminded Moira, "Some fool might get it in his head to try to kidnap and ransom you. The Hightown Inn will be safer than this hovel, not to mention…"

The Bann had wrinkled his nose at both the sight and the smell of Gamlen's home.

"It will be healthier for you both I'm sure."

Hawke knew that the man would not take no for an answer, and besides he was right. If mother was to truly recover her strength she could not do it here. A Hawke never accepted charity, but this wasn't charity was it, after all, she would pay the Bann back out of the profits they made selling off her treasure.

No, this was what they had worked for.

Moira was going to get her mother out of here.

In a show of true love and charity, charity far beyond anything Moira possessed, Leandra Hawke had even offered Uncle Gamlen a place at their side, but her brother had refused.

"I'm fine here sister," he informed her, "Here is where I belong."

Mother might have argued with him, but from the look on her brother's face he would not be swayed.

Perhaps he felt he deserved to remain in Lowtown, House Amell had fallen on his watch after all.

Perhaps he did not trust himself to be part of its resurrection.

Once mother was safe and resting in the Hightown Inn. Bann Pieter started introducing Moira to the men she would need to turn the dwarven treasure into coin and prestige here in Hightown. Hawke was amazed how quickly the Bann found buyers for her goods.

"Dwarves will pay a fortune for a piece of their history girl," Pieter informed her, "I'm willing to bet the little bastards haven't seen stull like this in years, if ever.

The Bann chuckled merrily.

"Our pockets will be filled in no time."

In this, the Bann had not lied. The Bann had trade contacts in the trade world that put Varric's people to shame. He knew people who traded in Orzammar, an even a few that claimed to have contacts in the distant dwarven city of Kal Sharrok.

The payment they got for the first shipment of treasure more than paid off the Bann for his aid with her workers, and the Hawkes place in the Inn. The rest would go towards buying what was needed to revitalize House Amell, and show the Viscount that the family was ready to return to its ancestral estate.

When Moira and Leandra Hawke stood before the Viscount is was no longer as a pair of dirt covered refugees, it was as two noble ladies eager to reclaim their place in Kirkwall society, and after throwing a bit of money around…

The nobles seemed more than eager to have them back.

Bann Pieter had left then, to see to his business interests in Ostwick, but promised to return soon. Leandra spent the next month meeting with artisans and workmen, people that she would need to restore the family home. As for Moira she saw to her companions needs. The life she would build now would not have been possible without their aid.

They had stood by her when she had needed them, now she could afford to be generous with their reward.

As her partner, Varric's share was an equal to hers; however she doubted that he enjoyed it. Bribes paid to the guild, and then there was the small matter of Bartrand's…mismanagement of their house before the expedition. The elder Tethras' obsession had left their family in shambles, in financial ruin. It was no wonder that he had chosen to flee Kirkwall as he did. Varric had never really took the time to look at the books until now, and when he did he realized to his horror that it fell to him to make sure that everyone that worked for them did not suffer from his brother's stupidity.

"It's okay Hawke," her partner assured her with a sly grin; "All this is just another bolt for Bianca to fire when she sees Bartrand again.

He had grinned wickedly then.

"She and I will both be happy when we see Bartrand again."

Moira said nothing to that, what could she say?

Family was family, but then again, none of her family had ever tried to kill her.

In the end it was Varric's choice, not hers.

She had thought that Fenris would use his share to final move out of Danarius' mansion; he had coin enough for his own place now. Yet, the elf continued to live as he had before. She had heard a rumor from Merrill that Fenris had donated the bulk of his share to the orphans of the Alienage, a sweet gesture if it was true.

She and Anders had little to say to each other after their return. If he blamed her for his lover ending up in the circle, he said nothing. He used his share restocking the supplies in his clinic at least that is what he told her when she finally asked. Though she also heard a rumor that he donated his money to the independent mage's collective, for the sole purpose of establishing an underground resistance for the Kirkwall mages. Once again this was just a rumor.

If it was true, Anders said nothing.

Keran proved to be the most open when it came to his share. He moved his sister into a small house in Hightown, not far from the merchant district of the city. Macha had been overjoyed when her brother had returned, yet shared Hawke's grief when she learned about Bethany's plight.

Keran himself said little of what had happened. What could he say? He had been a Templar once; part of him might have even supported Bethany's surrender.

"If you need to talk Moira," he had said to her in that soft shy Chantry-boy voice of his, "I'm here."

Hawke had been grateful for the offer, though she doubted that he could ever understand. Keran had proven himself a valuable asset in the deep roads, plus as a former Templar both the Kirkwallers and the Fereldans who Moira did business with both seemed to trust him.

She asked for him to help her in setting up her interest in the Bone Pit mines. When she could not tend to matters personally, she knew that she could count on him to see things done.

He had gratefully accepted the position; they had not even had to haggle over pay.

"I happy to help you," he said bowing his head, "In any way you need."

Moira's heart had fluttered a bit at that offer, it was not overly suggestive, but was just enough to make her blush.

When he realized what he had said, Keran had turn as red as she. In the end they decided not to discuss it further.

They would let the awkwardness die right there.

Once those that had gone with her into the darkness were taken care of, Hawke decided to see those that had not. After all, had it not been for them, she would not have raised the coin to go on the expedition in the first place.

Aveline said that she did not need a share, the guard saw to all her needs, but Moira would not take no for an answer. Eventually the Captain accepted, and donated the bulk of the money to the fund that looked after the widows and orphans of fallen guards.

Hawke did not know what Merrill did with her share. In fact, she was not sure if the Dalish truly understood what having that much money meant. Varric offered to help her invest it in a way that she could use to help her fellows if that was what she wanted, and she seemed pleased with that, after she had purchased some pretty things for her home in the alienage of course.

Her home was so drab, she complained, it would be nice to have some pretty things to come home to.

Isabela had taken her cut and debauched like mad. Hawke suspected that the money was gone after only the first two days of the pirate queen having it. She spent two nights at the Blooming Rose, only to return to the Hanged Man half drunk. She got into an argument with some thug over something, and the duel between them had resulted in a riot that almost wrecked half of Lowtown.

Isabela had spent a month in the dungeons beneath the Viscount's Keep after that. She had not enjoyed the confinement, complaining bitterly that the "Big Girl" had it in for her, and was not even open to taking a bribe from a friend to let her out.

Moira had talked to Aveline about it, but the guard captain would not budge.

She seemed pleased to have found a reason to lock Isabela up, for no other reason to show that the law was the law, even for one of her friends.

Hawke eventually decided to let the two sort it out amongst themselves.

Isabela was eventually released, but had to promise to not duel anyone within city limits.

The pirate had promised to obey, and Aveline would make sure that she kept that promise.

"You're no fun, big girl," Isabela had complained.

"I'm not paid to be fun," she reminded her.

Isabela had made some lude comment that, a comment that ended with telling her "Shut up whore," once again.

Moira had chuckled.

It was good to be home.

IOI

Hawke took a deep cleansing breath, again the water rippled.

Only three short months, though it seemed like a lifetime had passed.

Mother will be back soon, she realized, and Bann Pieter will be coming as well. Tonight they were to attend a party at the Viscount's Keep. The first real party they had been invited to, the last one she had needed to go as the Bann's plus one.

She smiled at that.

The nobles were starting to accept the idea that House Amell was back.

Now, she had to go a little further.

Moira's time in Lowtown had taught her a few things. There were resources in Lowtown that were beneath the notice of the other noble families, resources that could lead to a great deal of power and prestige.

Now that she had the coin to pursue those resources, she did not intend to let them sit idle any longer.

She had already discussed the matter with Varric. He thought it a good idea, but felt that it might be a good idea to clear it with Aveline first, just in case the guard captain thought it a bad idea.

She busted Rivaini Hawke" Varric reminded her, "He had no desire to see him bust her."

Moira had laughed and promised to be careful. After they had finished that conversation, Moira had led her allies against a coterie safe house in Darktown. The bounty money Aveline would pay for clearing out such a nest didn't hurt, and it gave Moira a chance to send one of the survivors back to his bosses with a message.

The first step on a new road, she thought to herself…

…A road that she could not walk if she spent all day soaking in a tub

With a sigh she rose from the water, which was probably a good idea, it had just started to get cold, and he fingers and toes were just the right shade of pink and pruny.

She quickly dried herself and wrapped herself in a soft cotton robe.

She found herself thinking about the smugglers and thieves that operated so freely in Lowtown. People that had been both enemies and friends, people that had grown extremely violent in the time she had been away.

The time had come to change that.

Hawke made for her bedroom, the closet in her suite was filled with new clothes that helped her blend into her new station

Tonight however, after she had finished with mother and Bann Pieter, she would require her old armor and staff.

Opportunity was knocked, she thought to herself with a smile.

The time had come to answer the door.


	45. High Life

**Chapter 45: High Life**

" _For a time, things quieted down for us. We all got on with our lives while Hawke went about the business of rebuilding her family."_

 _Varric paused. Cassandra was glaring at him again._

" _What?" he asked._

" _I know that you have passed over some of the things in the Champion's life," she said coolly, "I'm surprised that you would now choose to talk about a mundane period in her life."_

 _Varric shrugged._

" _You said you wanted to hear_ _ **everything**_ _, Seeker," he reminded her, "Normally I don't talk about the mundane stuff, it slows down the story for the listner, but in this case, it is related to what happens later."_

 _The woman sniffed, but nodded at his answer._

" _Very well, dwarf," she said, "Continue…"_

" _Thanks," Varric said dryly._

" _You're all heart."_

IOI

Moira sat at a small table in one of Hightown's open end cafés. Since coming into her money she thought it best to handle some of her business out in the public eye, get the rest of Hightown used to her presence if she needed to approach them about something. She knew from Varric that most of these nobles considered her "new money" despite her old family name. Some of them even looked down on her because of that.

She intended…to see that change. She wanted everyone to acknowledge both her and House Amell as part of their world. The sooner she accomplished that goal, the easier it would be to disappear among the noble crowd.

She needed that, more than anything else.

She had done her best to become friendly with both the manager and staff, just In case she needed a little… _privacy_ for certain meetings, privacy that only a crowd, and a helpful staff could provide. This was useful when a noble wished to discuss something private, but chose not to meet with her at _the Hanged Man_ , or in her, slowly being restored, home.

Personally, she thought the whole thing was silly, but Varric assured her that this is how things were done in Hightown. It was what a noble did.

 _It was best to keep up appearances_ , she knew, by doing business out in public, but at the same time showing the foresight to have privacy available if it was requested, she showed a sort of refinement that the other residents of Hightown understood.

It was also useful in making sure that people did not look too closely at her personally. She had no desire to have the Templars start sniffing around because this noble or that got suspicious of her business.

The shield she was building, was not that strong, not yet.

So far her plan seemed to be working. Slowly, but surely, the nobles of Hightown were beginning to accept her presence among them. A few had even requested a meeting, when her schedule opened up of course.

She would meet with them all in time, she knew, Varric said it was a good idea to make people wait sometimes, to show her power if nothing else.

If she was going to be living among the nobles, she needed to start thinking like a noble.

That suggestion seemed to be working, so far.

Of course, today's meeting was not about some random noble, it was a bit of housekeeping. She had asked Keran to join her to discuss matters about the Bone Pit. Hubert seemed to have things up and running again, but that did not mean she was willing to sit back and ignore the plight of his workers.

She had promised to look after them. She had given them her word.

It was a promise she intended to keep.

She looked up and smiled as she saw him striding towards her table. Despite being out of the order for months now, he still carried himself like a Templar. That was not entirely a bad thing she supposed, people seemed to respond to the air of confidence that the young man carried.

Yet…there was more to it, since their return from the Deep Roads, Keran did not seem to carry the worries he had before. Macha was being well taken care of, and he had truly moved out of the shadow of the Templar order. He was no longer being dragged down by what had happened to him. He seemed happier, more confident, and ready to face the world.

 _The fact that he was handsome did not hurt either._

That though gave her pause; it had come out of nowhere, and was, though not inappropriate, not likely the wisest thing for her to be thinking about.

Keran was useful to her, she did not doubt that, the people that worked the bone pit trusted him, and she knew that she could count on him in a pinch.

 _Not the worst type of man to have under you._

Something about that thought made her blush, she coughed and hid her face with a hand. She hoped that Keran, when he got here, would not notice the rosy color in her cheeks.

She had no desire to make things between them awkward. The still had much to do before the mine started producing for them.

They needed to stay focused on that.

IOI

"So, these are the new safety braces?"

"Yes, Hawke, straight from the forges of Orzammar, if you believe the dwarf that sold them."

Moira snorted as she inspected the heavy metal braces. She might not have known much about mining or engineering, but from the thickness of the metal, not to mention the dwarven runes pulsing with low grade lyrium, she could tell that these were not something you could buy off any merchant's cart for a few coppers.

That was good, considering Hubert's most recent report.

He believed that they had discovered a new iron vein. The dwarf he had brought the sample to was excited to say the least, very few impurities, and if the vein ran as thick as they thought, it would be a major money maker. It might even be enough to get an exclusive contract with one the Lowtown smelting firms.

That is where the true money was, or so Hubert claimed, who knew, within a year, they might be supplying steel to half of Kirkwall!

Such a contract would mean long term employment and benefits for the workers and massive profits for them, provided that the vein was as large as they hoped, and the workers were kept safe.

The latter problem was in Hawke's hand.

"These look good," she exclaimed, "Will we be able to buy more?"

"The man I talked to believes so," Keran replied, "It is a little on the expensive side, but you told me not to pinch coppers on safety matters."

She nodded.

"I did indeed," Hawke admitted, "I would rather spend a little coin now then have to explain a work stoppage over some cave in, not to mention the fact that these new braces will no doubt be better than the junk Hubert was using before."

Keran smiled at that.

"Speaking of your partner, Hubert is not going to be happy about this."

"Tough," Moira said with a shrug.

"He is going to say you are wasting money."

"I will talk to Hubert. I would rather spend a little on safety now, than have to deal with a stoppage caused by a cave in, plus, more safety means a chance of fewer or no lost workers. So our profits are a little less, so what, it is better than having to write condolence letters to some poor family that just lost someone."

Keran nodded. Clearly he could see her point…

…Hopefully, Hubert would too.

"The only problem I can see then is the Carta, they _**do**_ have a lock on all trade with Orzammar," Keran reminded her, "The payout to them is going to be high, and what is to stop them from raising their fees before we get everything settled in."

""I'm working on that right now," she informed."

He blinked.

"Really? How?"

She gave him a grim smile.

"I would rather not say anything until the deal is done. All that I can say is, if this works, we should not have to worry about either the Carta or the Coterie affecting our business."

He gave her a surprised look.

"That is a big order, Hawke."

"I'm a big girl," she said with a smirk.

"You certainly are," he said with a fond smile.

Though innocent, the comment caused a somewhat awkward pause. They ended up looking into each other's eyes briefly. She was suddenly aware of how close Keran had gotten to her during their meeting, how their hands were almost touching. How when he leaned in to show her something, their noses almost touched.

The proximity of it made her nervous, but not in the way that it should.

She found herself staring into those blue eyes, felt herself starting to get lost.

 _Whoa there, girl, slow down!_

She was the first to break that gaze, giggling nervously. She heard him chuckle, she was not sure, but she thought he might be blushing now.

Again the blush started to rise in her cheeks. Her body warmed under his soft regard, she kept her eyes on the table, not wishing to look up, until she had regained a bit of self-control, wishing she was better at hiding her emotions.

"Things will work out," she assured him, hoping her did not notice how pink her cheeks were turning.

"I've got this."

IOI

"Thank you ever so much, Varric!"

He chuckled as they made their way down the street. .As far as reasons went to be summoned to the Viscount's Keep, he could think of worse ones.

"Think nothing of it, Daisy," he said, "Though…we are going to have to talk about how you find your way into certain places. If Aveline had been out, things might have gotten a little sticky for you."

The Dalish nodded, she was careful to follow just a step behind him, thereby not attracting as much attention from the nobles milling around up here.

Daisy might seem scatter brained sometimes, he thought to himself, but she had learned quickly how to blend in when travelling up here. Of course, there were times that he suspected that there was more to her than met the eye. After all, she had trained for years to lead her clan, it seemed unlikely that such a naïve elf would be able to do not just endure such training, but to excel, and not give her Keeper reason to think that she needed to be replaced. He did not believe that Daisy's behavior was an act; she did not appear to be that cunning, but…

There was clearly more going on with Merrill than she let on. Given the dangers of Kirkwall, especially in the Alienage, she would not have lasted five minutes if there was not. He did not begrudge her that, that ability to keep her strength hidden, in the big city; it was a useful skill to have.

Some nobles were down right intolerant when it came to what they thought of as…"uppity" elves.

"I'm not quite sure how I ended up in that place," she mused to herself, "there are far too many corners in Kirkwall."

"I hope you are still using the ball of twine," he said, "It will help you retrace your steps if you find yourself in a strange place."

"I have been, but this time I was sure I knew where to go," she gave him a sheepish grin.

"Perhaps I need a bit more practice travelling in Hightown."

"Perhaps so, Daisy," he chuckled, "Perhaps so."

He had been working in his room in the Hanged Man when Aveline had sent for him. She was not sure how it had happened, but somehow, Merrill had found her way into the Viscount's baths. How she had gotten passed the security was mystery, but she had ended up their just the same.

Fortunately, she had gone mostly unnoticed, most of the staff had likely thought her part of the help; someone had even given a stack of towels to take care of, which Daisy, being Daisy, had taken without complaint. It was a good thing that when she _**was**_ noticed, it was by a guard that recognized her as one of the guard captain's companions. He had sent word to Aveline, who in turn, had sent word to Varric.

Since she had harmed nothing, Aveline was willing to let the matter go, provided Merrill be a little more careful in her…"wanderings."

It all worked out for the best, he had needed to speak with Hawke anyway, and this gave him an excuse to come up and find her. He had never been overly fond of Hightown, and since he had been forced to take over full control of House Tethras, he liked it even less.

He did his best to keep things afloat, to take care of those that served under him. It was one of the few lessons that he still remembered from his childhood. His mother may have been a slave to drink during the final years of her life, but in her few lucid moments; she had managed to teach him the concept of dwarven honor. He might pretend to ignore it, but that did not mean that he had forgotten.

The though made him smirk.

Who would have thought that it would be he, and not Bartrand, who ended up playing the good dwarven son…?

…Certainly, not him.

He tried not to focus too much on the past, not _**his**_ past anyway, a matter had just come to his attention, an old job that he and Hawke had left unfinished. They needed to take care of it before it came back to bite them. Fortunately, Aveline knew where he could find her at this time of day, and he…

"Ooh," Merrill exclaimed, pointing, "Varric! Look!"

He paused and looked up; following Daisy's finger, there was the small street side café where his partner conducted all her noble business. He saw her and Keran looking more than a little cozy, sitting together and giggling like a pair of children, looking far more….intimate than he had ever seen them before.

What happened next shocked him to his very core!

A sense of blinding fury washed over him, it was on him like lightning, a hot flame of anger that nearly blinded him. His fingers clenched, suddenly wishing he had his crossbow in his hand. He would…

Whoa!

Varric shook his head; his self-control reasserted itself, pushing the anger back before it got out and did something stupid.

He blinked, unsure of what had just happened!

Andraste's flaming tits, he thought to himself, what in the name of the Ancestors was that?!

"They're adorable," Merrill giggled, "Do you think he will try to kiss her? I think he will try to kiss her?"

Varric blinked, trying to clear the blood from his eyes, he had heard what Merrill said, but did not respond; he was too busy trying to digest the flash of anger that had just passed through him.

It was all he could do to resist snapping at Daisy, why was that? Her comment was as innocent as could be? Why should it piss him off?

 _Because Charity is with her, and you are over here, is that not enough?_

Once again he pushed back such thoughts, his reason overriding the sudden anger.

The affection between Hawke and Charity wasn't surprising, he had been around the two long enough to see that there was at least some…spark there. He had not seen her return it until now, but…

That still did not explain the fury. Hawke was his business partner, nothing more; they were friends, but…

He took a deep and steadying breath.

Jealousy was not something he was familiar with, but…was it jealousy? He was fond of Hawke, true, but he did not think that he looked at her **that** way. Since Bianca, he had not really looked at any woman that way…

…Sometimes he thought he never would, and just how unfair that was suddenly snapped into focus.

It is not them, he realized, it was the whole damn situation. Now that Hawke had done what was needed, she was free to seek out a little companionship. Varric remained weighted down by all his responsibilities, both the ones that Bartrand had left, and the ones he had carried since he agreed to end things with Bianca.

It had not been fair, but that was the whole point.

Life never was fair.

He took another deep breath, and pushed all thoughts of what might have been behind him. He needed to focus on the present right now, not dwell in the past. Hawke needed to know what was going on.

He would not begrudge her trying to find a little happiness.

"Come on, Daisy," he said gesturing the elf forward, "I need to speak with Hawke."

The two moved forward, physically anyway.

Varric sighed.

He wished that his heart could move on as easily.

IOI

Moira's eyes narrowed when Varric finished his report. It shouldn't have come as a surprise; she had made many enemies in the last few years, but…

"You're certain it is Flint Company?"

"My contacts seemed pretty certain," Varric nodded, "Word is that they have spent the last few months rebuilding, hiring on new people, buying new equipment."

The dwarf's expression turned grim.

"And now they're getting ready to move against you, Hawke. They know that we were the ones that almost destroyed them a year ago…and now…it looks like payback."

She shook her head. She had thought the Flint Company matter closed. They had all but destroyed the group, with only a few stragglers remaining, or so they thought.

Now it seemed that missing those last few mercenaries had come back to haunt her, the group was reorganized, and ready to move again.

So much for being merciful, she thought.

"Is this simply a vendetta against, Hawke," Keran asked, "Or are they working for someone?"

"Probably both, Charity," Varric said with a shrug, "Lot of people would not mind seeing House Amell stopped in its tracks, going after Hawke would be the best way."

Moira leaned back in her chair, thinking.

 _They would need to act, swiftly and decisively, and this time she would not take any chances._

 _This time, she would deal with these killers once and for all._

She would need to call the rest of the group together; they would need to face this as a team. She would put Varric on trying to locate who had paid for the return of the group, and see if Aveline could do something about whoever may have taken out the contract. Then she…

"What about that Chantry Prince?" Merrill blurted out.

They all gave the Dalish a look? The girl blushed under their regard.

"Chantry Prince?" Moira asked.

"The poor man whose family was slain," she added quickly, "I heard Varric say once that we were going after these people for some prince of the chantry?"

Moira nodded. Merrill was not wrong she thought.

Varric gave her a sly grin.

"Not a bad idea, Daisy," he said.

The elf blushed and looked away.

Hawke smiled as well. She liked the idea.

 _Vael,_ _ **Prince**_ _Sebastian Vael of Starkhaven._

The Flint Company job had been one of her first as an independent operator; it had a special place in her heart. It also could have been the most profitable, had the young noble regained his place…

She wouldn't lie; she had seen the value of developing a rapport, especially since her return from the deep roads. She had kept tabs on Sebastian since their first meeting, first using Varric's contacts, and since coming into wealth, her own... He had spoken with the Viscount several times, trying to drum up support to reclaim his birthright. When nothing had come of those meetings, he had tried to rally the nobles for support. Unfortunately, the people supporting his cousin's claim had more resources behind them than the would-be prince. If needed, they could pay Kirkwall's elite not to consider what had happened in Starkhaven as _**their**_ problem. Sebastian was a chantry brother; he simply did not have the wealth and prestige to match his enemies' offers. So, the powerful of Kirkwall did nothing. The nobles simply did not see the value in supporting, what they saw, as a doomed bid for power.

It was a long shot, she had to admit. The nobles that had overthrown his family were powerful, and she was only just starting to grow her prestige.

Still…it did not hurt to be a forward thinker. Starkhaven was a very wealthy city, having its leader grateful to her, could be useful, extremely useful.

She nodded to herself, coming to a decision.

"I think I need to go to the chantry." She said to her allies.

"I think it is time to have a word with a certain brother."

IOI

" _So the champion sought to influence the succession in Starkhaven?"_

" _Hawke was always looking for new opportunities, Seeker," Varric said with a shrug, "You can't blame her for that."_

 _The woman in black snorted; clearly she thought she could blame Hawke for many things._

 _Varric shook his head._

 _Typical, he thought._

 _It was strange that the memory of that meeting was still so clear in his mind. It had been the beginning of their relationship with Sebastian, true, but…_

 _He frowned._

 _He still remembered the anger he had felt seeing Keran and Hawke together. He had thought about that moment many times in the years since._

 _He had come to only one conclusion._

 _His feelings for Hawke ran deeper than he cared to admit._

 _Yet, he had never spoken a word to her about it. He had never dared. He hated to admit it, but what had happened with Bianca had left him more than a little caution when it came to matters of his heart. Most of the time it seemed like the right call, the wise call…_

… _other times, he felt like a fucking coward._

 _The dwarf shook his head again._

Bianca would have been ashamed of what he had become, and so would, he thought glumly, would Hawke.

 _He had helped her get everything that she had wanted, but had never dared have the balls to stand beside her when she did. If that was not being craven…?_

… _he did not know what was._

" _I suppose you will want to hear about Sebastian now, huh, Seeker?"_

" _Indeed," she said grimly, "Continue…"_

 _He sighed._

" _Your wish is my command."_


End file.
